Purgatoriu
by The Seelie Court Jester
Summary: After surviving the purge in Sotoba, Megumi is finally heading off to Tokyo where she allies with vampire syndicates. But as the killing continues, Megumi finds herself more and more disgusted by the glamorous corruption she once found intriguing. And when she realizes that Natsuno has survived as well, it becomes clearer who will descend the crimson madness first.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing she could remember was pain, a stinging, sharp pain just between her lungs. That horrible pressure was removed, yet at the same time, she felt hot…incredibly hot. She struggled against the unwanted touch, prying herself away from the bright lights. She withered in agony, screaming for someone, anyone, to come to her aid. Her nails gripped the dirt, ripping away the ash beside her, before, at last, trying to seek out anyone nearby, while groping her surroundings for an object to take out her frustrations on.

She felt something sharp. Was this the source? Without thinking, she tugged at the thing, forcing it out of her body with perfect ease. She screamed agonizingly, though her tears no longer flowed. Why? Her body was recovering, wasn't it? She could feel its veins connecting themselves, the organs filling the hole with her cold blood. In fact, it was such a relaxing sensation that she dared not move, for fear the pain would return.

Something consumed her, and disintegrated everything that was within her grasp. The young woman realized she had no strength left; all ambition left her. She couldn't move, couldn't even screech. And she lost conscious after that.

The next thing Megumi saw were ashes. She struggled to get up, her eyes trying to rearrange themselves. Her hands clutched her sockets, and it took some time before she could see again. She blinked, the bright, ghostly moon shining above her. She stared at it for a bit, disoriented by the ghoulish light, as she sat up, slowly looking around.

She took in her ruined, Gothic dress. A velvet, purple bodice wrapped itself tightly around her. Her corpse-like skin housed a marvelous array of burns, most of which were healing quite splendidly, and aside for the pieces of black thorns that fell from her hair, she appeared lovely, beautiful even. Her hands flew to her pigtails, ensuring they were still in their place, before getting up and brushing the ash from her dress.

Megumi slowly shifted through the scene, finding the remnants of those irritating memories. That's right, she slowly realized. The villagers, those _idiots almost killed her. _

She lifted both arms in front of her eyes, before breathing a relieved sigh. Her fingers caressed her face, reminded of the pressure she felt during that rampage. A tire was what crushed it. They trapped her by destroying her arm, and when she told them that cold, harsh truth, they silenced her by pressing her head.

"Stupid," she muttered. She cleaned herself off angrily, their faces ingrained in her mind. "Stupid, so stupid, so stupid." Faces that used to laugh at her. "So stupid!"

Faces that practically enjoyed her death. "Stupid!"

Faces she'll never see again. "SO STUPID!"

No one answered back, as she expected. But she immediately became aware of the silence, and straightened her bones. There was no creature around her, living or dead, and from the look of things, Megumi only had to turn around and walk away from the little abyss, to the direction of the bright, shinning city. She could imagine it all; the glamorous lights, the variety of shops, the different people…it was heavenly.

Happily, she turned and started walking, taking in the wondrous sight of decay. Most of the trees were blackened, with only the dried, pitiful leaves clinging to their unstable branches. The dirt had been overcome with grass, and in the distance, she no longer saw the idiotic village she once knew; how could she, when it was burnt to the ground?

Megumi never thought of anything else. She grew excited over her seemingly insignificant wish, and threw her arms in the air. "You're all dead!" she laughed maniacally. "See?! The only strange ones here are you!" She howled with delicious glee, and did so until her stomach hurt. "If only you were just a bit cooler, _maybe then _you would've been spared." And with that, she turned her heel and left for Tokyo.

* * *

A deep groan arose from a far off pit. A pair of dark, purple eyes kept glancing around in the darkness, examining the now cremated corpses. Inside the pit, a young man arose from the ashes, endeavoring to sit up as he tried determining where what'd happened, where he was.

He gazed at his hands. They were pale, and shined in the darkness, though it could've been just the light above. His fingers scratched his purple hair, the yellow jacket clinging to his body, which was soaked with the ground's moisture. All around him, skulls, bodies, flesh that had not yet decayed, were still there, burned by the supposed suicide bomb he set off. He could see the organs, most of which have spewed out of their bodies, as well as the limbs that seemed to have strayed from their own sources.

Natsuno's eyes widened with disbelief. It wasn't possible…it just _wasn't possible. _The bomb definitely went off; he could feel the heat radiating from his face. His body tore at the seams, shattering into a million pieces as he confined himself to death. He knew he burnt under the flames, but why? Why had he survived? Even Tatsumi, whom he dragged with him, was nowhere to be found. He groped his body, checking for any fatal injuries he could utilize to finish the job. None.

His breathing became harder as he stood, staring at the destruction within him. It was so disgusting, so horrifying he had to steady himself on the dirt walls. Carefully, he blinked out the rays, astonished at how warm they were. He looked up, the blue skies ahead of him; it beckoned him without much effort. Natsuno casted a reluctance glance at the ashes below him, before straining to climb out of the pit. It was starting to smell down there anyways.

It took a while, but at last, he managed to come up. He was almost completely blind, possibly due to the darkness below, but he could still make out the shapes and forms of what used to be Sotoba.

The devastation was immense. Though he was greatly weakened, Natsuno could smell the fresh bodies, the forest from the aftermath of the bloodshed. There were many shiki decaying underground, and for those unfortunate enough to have been left on the surface, they were already cremated. He rubbed his eyes, and forced his pupils to focus. The area took form, and before he knew it, he started walking, gazing at the endless destruction he never meant to cause.

There was nothing left, albeit a piece of wood here and there. Kudzu vines have already overtaken a majority of the village, and weeds have infested the once plentiful herbal gardens. The small shops are now desolate, covered with corpses and broken glass. He wasn't sure what he walked under, as he simply kicked it away, calling it "junk" in the process. He couldn't block out the emotion, however; was his dad safe? What about Kaori and Akira? Did they get caught up in all of this? No, they couldn't have; he made sure of it.

Natsuno stopped when he was sure he was at the center of the village. He remembered that the rest of the villagers here, plotting their next move. As he recalled, the last thing they were discussing were the potential hiding places of the shiki, as well as their potential allies, and he couldn't help but laugh. To think that the kind Dr. Toshio would fall to such depravity, even after all the compassion he showed for his formerly dead patients. It appears that the war truly oozed with a bittersweet irony.

The sun kept beating down on him. His body was dry, and his tongue was parched. That's right; he needed to feed, else he would die. But it'd be nice, to merely starve himself to death, to not move a muscle and let Sotoba be his grave, as it originally was.

Something inside him did not sit well with the idea.

He'd always wanted to get out of the village. Everyone just sat there, labeling each other with stereotypes. What was more ridiculous was how they expected each other to go along with the idea, without so much as an argument. It irritated him to no end, and he desired nothing more than to leave. The sight of his insane father was what held him back; even after he became a jinrou, those feelings never faded.

He balled his fists. Everyone was dead; the people who would recognize him were gone, and the remaining survivors were probably scattered somewhere, lost in the tides of the world. He was in no danger…at least, not right away. He cursed at his own indecisiveness; would he be a hypocrite if he continued living, even after all the lives he'd taken? Was it fair to remain unscathed, while everything he'd known evaporated before his eyes? Should he even be living?

For some reason, despite these thoughts, he wasn't crying. Natsuno never cared much for that kind of thing. He looked back at Sotoba one more time; there was no doubt he hated it here, but there were good moments too. He was supposed to help Tooru out with a girl, take her out for a drive. His father had come here to spend more time with his family, and in truth, he did…somewhat. Their "family time" involved Natsuno studying either in his room or at Tooru's; he didn't like his parents fawning over him.

He never thought he'd regret his own neglect.

He took a deep breath and stared up, a determined look in his eyes. Tooru…though it may have been pointless, Natsuno wanted to get along with his friend; the creature that night behaved too much like his best friend after all. And besides, it was too painful to say just a simple goodbye. He started to walk again.

There had to be something he could do. Shiki and humans can't fight like this forever, else they drag each other to arms of hell. They could coexist with one another, without taking lives, without the blood. He knew it was idealistic, yet wasn't _that_ the answer people were looking for? If they just did that, would it have been possible to avoid this tragedy altogether? His mind wrestled with these questions as he stepped over the ash and onto the grass. That's right; they were in the middle of summer when the slaughter began.

"Where now?" he asked himself. Well, he did move here from Tokyo…


	2. Chapter 2

_How's it feel? _

Kaori jolted awake. She panted heavily and clutched the sheets, while trying to remove those frightening images from the depths of her mind. The scream managed to build up in her throat, but somehow, she suppressed it, long enough for her breaths to ease into a long, monotonic rhythm. Her pulse slowed down, as she came to realize where she was, where she had been. She nestled her cheek back into her pillow, anxious to not wake her dog, Love, up.

The comfortable darkness engulfed her bleak sight, all but for the red glow of the numbers on her clock. The adrenaline kept the poor girl awake, even when she still had five minutes of blissful sleep. Now four minutes, now three…

Love, unbothered by her efforts, stretched beside her bed, his nose delightfully sniffing the sweet aromas that slipped through the crack of her door. "Hey Kaori," a warm, friendly voice said. "Time for breakfast."

"R-right," she stammered. She steadied herself on the bed. Her arms thrust upwards, her cramped body taking in the sweet space. She blinked, and took a long, hard look outside. That's right; today was the first day of school.

Today was the first day of school…

Her head flew back to the clock, the panic setting in as she practically threw open her new closet. The pristine uniform she laid out the night before seemed to scold her for "oversleeping." But she couldn't help but giggle when she removed her shirt and shorts. The uniform consisted of a simple long, navy blue skirt, and the white, plaid shirt lay out its similar patterns. The outfit gave Kaori an anxious thought; she was going to a new school, with new peers, and a new set of standards. She wouldn't know anyone.

She opened the door, revealing a tiny kitchenette in front of her. Love raced out of her room, and used Mr. Yuuki, her guardian, to stretch his tired legs. The man chuckled a little, scratching his ear. "Sorry, but no."

Love whimpered in agony.

His white hair was neatly combed back, revealing an old, but still handsome face from a happier time. The dark green apron emphasized his vulnerability, yet accentuated the now fatherly feel he had to him. His shoulders were relaxed, the bacon sizzling with its fiery energy. Unlike Kaori, Mr. Yuuki probably wasn't haunted by any nightmares.

It didn't take long for her brother, Akira, to stumble into the kitchen. "H…hey…" he drawled sleepily.

"You're not even dressed yet!" Kaori pointedly accused.

"School doesn't even start till nine for me," he sleepily explained. He waved to Mr. Yuuki, to which he responded warmly. She mentally groaned, as she grabbed a peace of buttered toast and stuffed it in her mouth. Her bag was waiting on the table, making her all the more scared. "Why are you so laid back?" she asked him. "Aren't you nervous?"

"That's for losers," he stubbornly answered.

"Take care." Mr. Yuuki called, as Kaori busily shoved her shoes onto her feet. She'd never been feminine; Megumi called her out on that aspect more than once, and it made Kaori all the more defiant, as she rebelled against her friend's tasteless fashions. She opened the door, revealing the hot, summer air. She turned around. "I'll be back at around 4!"

"Wait, you forgot your-!"

She didn't hear Mr. Yuuki when she slammed the door behind her and sped out of the gates of their tiny apartment. She missed the bus, but if she can still make it if she ran. She was impressed with herself, at how she managed to weave her way through the crowds, as if she'd lived here all her life. The people cautiously moved out of her way, and some even joined her, as she was heading the same way they were.

It'd been about eight months after the fire at Sotoba, eight months since their home seemingly disappeared. The authorities were going to put she and Akira in foster homes, if it wasn't for Mr. Yuuki, who offered to take custody of them. He provided them a shelter, warm clothes, food on the table; he went as far as to get a job near the high school Kaori was attending, so that he could better keep an eye on her and Akira. The siblings were indebted to him. It was he, after all, who helped them move on. But all in all, he was probably just as pained as they were. He lost both his wife and son, Natsuno, to the fires.

At least, that's what he told the media.

The shapes past her quickly. She narrowly avoided the glistening puddle as she raced forth. She looked behind her; everyone had reached their intended destinations. Either that or they were just too tired to compete with her. She devoured the last of the toast and swung her bag on her back. She pictured Love in front of her. Her pace began mirroring her dog's, and at last, she was sprinting, with all the desperation left behind.

By the time she got to the school, the sweat shimmered from her skin. Kaori kept jogging inside, the relief causing her knees to wobble. She sauntered into the building, and looked up at the clock. Ten minutes to spare.

She looked around; surprised at the vibrant atmosphere of the city high school. Unlike her old one, everyone here was so laid back, carefree. In all honesty, she felt a bit out of place. She clutched her skirt and approached a girl, around the same age as she. "Um, excuse me…?"

The girl turned around, surprising Kaori with her appearance. She had blond hair, with the tips lightly dyed blue. The mascara, Kaori believed, heavily dotted her eyes, and the bright, pink lipstick hurt her eyes, but only a little. Her nails were painted black, but other than that, she seemed normal. Kaori was just about to talk with the girl again when she flipped her hair and said, "What'd you want?"

"Ah…I was wondering where we go to get our…our sche-" Someone pushed her from behind. She turned around, and saw a tall boy standing there. He had light, brown hair, with black eyes that scornfully humiliated her. His tan skin made it all the more embarrassing, as he scooped up the girl in his arms. "Hey babe. Didn't see you."

"Ugh. You're so rude," she countered playfully, as she stared cruelly at Kaori. She picked herself up and straightened her uniform. She made another attempt to ask, when the girl held up her hands. "Go to the freaking gym and get your stupid schedule. Idiot," she spat. Unwilling to deal with said idiot, she and the boy walked away, his arm draped over her shoulder.

"Th-thank you," Kaori called out. Her voice faltered as the couple disappeared down the hallways. She looked around; no one else paid any attention to the scene. She closed her eyes and continued her way, wandering around the building frantically.

When she finally reached the gym, the teachers were already yelling for the students to leave. She jogged toward one, and asked where she could get her schedule. The woman stared at her for a moment, then set down her bullhorn and started shifting through the messily stacked papers. Kaori blinked, leaning forth. "C…can I help you?"

"It's fine," she said. "Name?"

"Tanaka."

"Here." The woman shoved the paper into her arms. "Now go; you don't want to be late, alright?"

"R-right."

It only took Kaori three more minutes to find the right classroom. By then, the teacher had already arrived, and made it his goal to start early. She bowed, and apologized sincerely. He accepted and gestured toward the class. To her dismay, the couple was there, waiting for her with vicious smiles on their face, but she took a deep breath, and marched in the middle of the classroom, where an empty desk resided. She set her bag down and looked up, unfettered by their predatorily stares.

"Right, now that all of us are here, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Kosei-sensei, and it's nice to meet all of you. Now, do we have a…Chiba Kyoko?"

"Here."

One by one, Kosei-sensei called out the names of her new classmates. They all seemed pretty disinterested; some went back to sleep afterwards, and Kaori felt pretty tired herself. Finally, she heard her name, and she said, "Here."

That disinterest went away immediately. Whispers erupted from around her. She turned hastily, finding their weary faces slowly twisting to an expression filled with morbid curiosity. Sotoba, fires, bodies…the words floated around her head as she fixed her eyes on her hands. She knew it was strange; from what she could tell, there were rumors of a massacre, of witch burnings, werewolves…vampires. Thankfully, Kosei-sensei rapped his fingers, causing the students to settle down. He continued to take role, apparently distracted by the long roster of students.

Kaori remembered it well. Shiki, her dad, her mom, even Natsuno…they were all taken away by the monsters who resided in the village. Her former best friend, Megumi Shimizu, fell to those sins, and as a result, she aimed to take Kaori's life. It was by that threat the village burned down; she, along with the others, were exterminating the pests.

But the criminals were dead now. Kaori had long past mourned for Natsuno, but she couldn't even bring herself to feel guilty for Megumi's death. She did, after all, kill her father, as well as many of the other villagers. She was glad her 'best friend' was gone; she couldn't terrorize anyone else every again. Kaori felt the smile lingering on her lips, as Kosei-sensei finished his mundane task. He immediately began the lesson.

Megumi squealed excitedly when she saw Tokyo's flashing lights. The blinking signs tempted her, practically begging her to come inside their shops, to get a feel of the urban settings. She looked down at her garb, and self-consciously straightened her ponytails. She straightened her back and began walking toward the city, trying to, at least, appear elegant.

The streets were paved with stone, as she excitedly noted, and the posts were turned at every corner. There were a few trees around, but it added to Tokyo's charming area. The shadow of the lights gave the various attractions a more vivid color, which swirled around her so lovingly. Megumi almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

A happy smile tugged at her face, as she gazed at the wonderful outfits behind the clear windows. It amazed her at how many different designs there were, so much so she began memorizing their insane patterns, their revealing skin tones. The mannequins displayed the clothes well; they were all to her satisfaction. But around her, she heard their low voices. She turned around, and saw their eyes regarding her evenly. Things like "cosplay" and "Goth" kept reaching her ears, and she blinked curiously at the humans. Was that supposed to be a good thing?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned, finding a young man standing before her. His sleek, black hair was neatly combed back. He had a tuxedo on, with a gold name tag which flourished the word _Haruma. _He was handsome, and he looked so official that Megumi jumped away from the man, sheepishly looking away. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Haruma, she guessed, laughed at her sudden change. "It's alright. You didn't do anything wrong." He stepped closer to Megumi and followed her sight, examining the purple dress. The sleeve fitted the left arm, while the right bared its plastic skin. A black belt wrapped around the mannequin's waist, and the sexy, high heeled boots worked well with the outfit. "That's from the fall collection."

"Fall? It's so hot!" Megumi complained.

"Yeah well, some customers like the newest fashions. Would you like to come inside?"

"Y-yes!" she said enthusiastically. She didn't even have to wait for Haruma to lead her in; she simply scampered around him and went through the doors.

The store exceeded Megumi's expectations; a crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling, with white fabrics cascading from the lights. The tiles greeted her heels happily, and the dresses bombarded her with their unique strangeness. There were no customers, which made her feel all the more selfish; she had the entire store to herself. She greedily combed through the selections, as she took in the softness of the fabric. It was finer than the rags she had to play with at home.

"You like what you see?" Haruma asked.

"I do…but I don't think I can afford any of this." Megumi stared at the price tags. Her voice faltered a bit, before turning to Haruma. "Do…do you think I can…you know…"

She watched him move from the walls, inspecting the dresses, the pants, the blouses. He turned back and smiled. "Of course; we're always looking for workers. No one wants the night shift."

"You have a night shift?!" she shouted ecstatically. Her eyes kept moving back to the softness of the surface. She never bothered to keep track of the man anymore; everything was right there, right before her. Even when the lights shut off, she never paid any attention to Haruma. "Hey," she began, "do you think I could wear-"

Her body slammed to the ground, a hand covering her mouth. The hanger fell from her hands when she stumbled, and her head hit the back of the shelves. She tried forcing Haruma off of her, yet the strength in her usually powerful arms faltered.

She had yet to feed.

She writhed underneath his grip, but his fingers refused to open her mouth. She could hear his heavy breathing, his eyes taking in her supple flesh. "You're so cold," he observed. "Want me to warm you up?"

Megumi tried to claw at him, but with just one hand, he held her down. His thumb stroked her wrist, while his knee placed itself between her legs. "You're not from here, are you girl? You can't just trust what everyone says, right?" She felt his lips on her forehead. His sickly sweet breath tickled down her neck, and it disgusted her, to the point where she began pushing herself away. The blood through his veins pulsed, as his body drew her near with its warmth. A tiny thought echoed from the back of her heart, as she opened her eyes. His hips were on hers; his hand hand gripped her forehead, while the other was undoing the lace on her bodice.

_He was going to rape her._

Her nails finally clawed at his face, forcing Haruma off her. He clutched his cheek, grunting painfully as he stared up at his supposed victim. "You…you bitch!" he screeched. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Megumi heard herself giggle, as she lunged for the human, delighted by the warm aroma. Her pupils became black, and her red eyes grew feral. She ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the prey. "I can work here?"

With the blink of an eye, she moved to Haruma's throat, and pierced the skin with her two, piercing fangs.

The blood was lovely. It gave her the vitality she missed for so long. She could feel her body warm to the new fluid. Haruma struggled under her, trying to force her off; he even screamed and pleaded for his miserable life. His cries were slowly reduced to incoherent moans, and before long, he ceased his mumbles. It felt like his body deflated. How long had she gone without a meal?

She licked her lips, and shivered at the taste, even if the blood wasn't as rich as her other victims'. Her tongue pressed against the punctured wounds and stopped the bleeding, not that there was much blood left to begin with. She threw the man away as she stared at the store, taking in all the glamorous outfits. She giggled, and turned back to Haruma's corpse. "You said I could work the night shift, right?" she asked the corpse.

But she remembered her lesson from Sotoba. Quickly, she dragged Haruma behind the counter, careful not to let anyone see. She didn't even need to ask the potential witnesses outside; they were too busy minding their own business. Or did they want him dead? She couldn't tell.

She shoved him under the desk and looked at the stores. She smirked, as she carried herself toward the dresses. She stripped the hangers of their covers and walked into the changing rooms. They were all lovely, each and every one of them and she wasn't about to let them go to waste. So she stuffed them in a bag, and strolled out of the store, no longer interested in the job.


	3. Chapter 3

Love ran ahead, like he always did, while Kaori yanked at his leash a bit, trying to get him to slow down. Her breaths became raspy, while her mind replayed the recent scenes from school. This past week alone was hard to get by. No one bothered greeting her after the first day ended; whenever she tried approaching them, she was always shut down. They didn't want to associate with the "weird girl", as they called her, nor did they want any of her "curses" or "hexes." In some ways, they were even crueler than Sotoba's residents were, and at least Megumi had the decency to keep up with her appearances.

That couple, Yuki and Ken, was the brunt of her suffering. They made fun of her whenever they could, and though it stopped momentarily when a teacher arrived, they kept up with the constant teasing. They threatened her on a daily basis, from scratching the words "witch" on her desk, to tearing her clothes up, to even stealing her shoes and stringing them up on a wire for everyone to see. Why they singled her out, she didn't know.

Love came to a grinding halt, and likewise, so did Kaori. She crouched down and petted the dog, who waged his tail happily. There was no use dwelling on the day. This was her life now, and she had to try and make the best of it. Akira was already content with his new surroundings, so she should try and get along better with the rest of the students.

She stood, ready to continue, when she caught two shadows in the distance. Even from there, Kaori could tell they were conversing about something serious, so she pulled Love the other way. For some reason, he didn't want to move. She was about to tug the leash again when she saw his confused grin. She looked up; it was Mr. Yuuki.

Quickly, she scooped the dog in her arms and covered his nuzzle with her hand. She ran behind the corner of an alleyway, and listened in on their words.

"…going to do it!" she heard Mr. Yuuki scream.

"What about your boss? What would he say?"

"Just let me figure something out."

Kaori couldn't hear anymore. Love started growling, so she jerked him around to stop him from making any noise. She closed her eyes when the talking stopped, holding her breath as she listened for any footsteps in her direction. Before long, they resumed their whispers.

"…you're sure about…?"

"Of course I am. This will help, right?"

"Yes…setting a good example…"

"R-right." Mr. Yuuki didn't sound like he was too keen on the idea. Kaori peered from out the cracks. "But I don't understand why I have to stay away for that long," he continued. "I mean, I have someone I have to-"

"You'll be well compensated. And besides, they aren't children. They can handle themselves." The man, apparently, didn't give him any time to respond, as he started walking away. "I'm expecting you to be there," he said, in a low, menacing voice. "He would've wanted this."

The air became heavy, and it made it hard to breathe. Everything seemed to die, and even the pebbles below her feet were quaking. Kaori held Love tightly, shutting off his whimpers while she prayed for the man to go away. Mr. Yuuki hadn't said anything. Why? She began to turn, when she heard that man speak again. "See you in a few days."

"See you…" Mr. Yuuki called out. The dark atmosphere ebbed away, and by the time she came out from the alley, the man was gone. She set Love down and watched her guardian; he hadn't moved since the man's disappearance. In fact, when she came to him, he seemed lonely, melancholic. She shook his arm, and that dead face suddenly came alive.

He blinked away the sleep in his eyes, and looked down. "Kaori! What are you doing here?"

She gripped her leash tightly, and her eyes fell on his neck. Nothing. "Um, I was about to ask you the same thing Mr. Yuuki. Who were you just talking to, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Who…? Oh, that fellow. He's going to be hosting a local blood drive at your school and he wanted me to participate. Says I'd be a good model for the rest of the kids."

Slowly, Kaori pulled his elbow, and she led him away from the scene. She remembered some announcement like that over the intercom. Her classmates laughed at Kosei-sensei when he rushed out of the room, highly opposed to getting his blood drawn. Just minutes after the incident, the principal was on the speaker, shouting irritably that if the teachers did not participate, she would reduce their salaries by half. But what did that have to do with Mr. Yuuki? "You don't have to do that Mr. Yuuki. We're already so grateful to you-"

"No, it's fine." he laughed, patting Kaori's hand. "It's not like I'm afraid of blood or anything. Besides, I get to see how you kids are doing."

"Did…did he tell you what the blood was for?"

"Blood transfusions for car accidents, gun shot wounds, stabs, all that…good stuff." He sighed uncomfortably. "And it's not just me either; they're getting all the adults to participate. You might see your friends' parents there."

Love pulled at the leash again, but Kaori held him back. "Kosei-sensei cried today."

"It'd be interesting to see how he takes it."

She could just imagine the humor from the blood drive, her struggling teacher against the wicked, needle-wielding nurse. She giggled at the thought. "Do they need that much blood? Just the teachers doing it should be enough, right?"

"Usually, but this year, a lot of high schoolers are interested in medicine. I guess the government's just preparing for the worst." They snickered, the image of a bumbling doctor performing surgery before them.

A funny sight indeed.

* * *

"Katsu hasn't come back yet."

"Maybe he got sidetracked. A lot of cute chicks during this hour."

"Yeah, but it's not like him to stay out…_this_ long."

Katsu was what many would call a conscious binge-eater; he always ate more than he should, and whenever someone got suspicious, it was most likely due to Katsu's poor eating habits. Still, he always made a point about being punctual, and he would never accept tardiness from any of them, especially when Elizabeth was involved. He didn't want to jeopardize his chances of being with her.

So it was extremely fortunate that said Baroness decided not to show that night. And it didn't matter how much they teased him about his feelings toward Katsu; they all knew Daiki had a point. Daiki returned to his thoughts, as he observed one shiki to the next. "Do you think we should look for him?"

"No. Give him a few more minutes."

"Didn't he say he saw a bleeding woman two hours ago?"

"Yeah, two hours ago." Daiki flickered his eyes annoyingly at Hibiki. He brushed his sandy hair out his eyes, his pale, skeletal fingers tracking the movement of each person. "It doesn't take Katsu long to finish off just one prey."

"You think someone might've gotten him?" a girl, Nishi whispered timidly, her soft, blue hair covering the tears. "I-if that's the case, then we should move-"

"No. No, it's too early to assume that." And besides, no one dared take down their group. They were under the Baroness's protection; if someone under her authority was harmed, she'd go ballistic. She would track down the stray shiki, and in a heartbeat, decapitate them in the most painful, excruciating way. Their bodies would still be flailing, and it'd be a while before she'd get around to actually _staking _them.

A truly gruesome sight.

But in return, Daiki and the rest heeded her orders. She would send them out to assassinate leaders, threats, anyone who dared oppose her. Elizabeth had made it very clear what would happen should they disregard her, responsibly or recklessly. And it was through this knowledge Daiki stared at Nishi and smiled reassuringly. "Katsu's too strong for anyone to beat down." The rest of the members agreed to that reasoning.

In the midst of the nervous rustling, there was a tiny knock on the walls. Daiki's cautious sight turned to the clear silhouette; their shape took form, and in that darkness, a man with bright, green hair appeared before them. The green mixed gracelessly with the brown, and his grimy, dirt face blended with the misty tunnels. His black, plaid shirt gave off a bloody scent, and his jeans were wet from running in the sewers.

Aito.

Here, in their safe shelter, away from the light, away from the noise, was Aito, the normally vibrant, bustling shiki. He alone risked his life to venture out in the city, to party in the clubs, to interact with his prey. He was a key source of information for all of them, and when Elizabeth requested something from them, he was usually the messenger. But Daiki had to watch as this strong, confident man, break before them. He narrowed his eyes. "What is it?" he demanded.

"Haruma…Haruma Ito…has been killed."

"What?" Daiki got up, and raced toward Aito. Haruma Ito, the heir of a famous fashion designer, had been on their hit list for a while. Though he was influential in the vampire world, commanding the respects of the undead, including the Baroness's, it was she who gave them their orders. She wanted him out of the way so she could assume control of the industry, of his territory. It was how she staked her claim; have a servant murder the master, and through that servant, she would become prominent in that specific area. That was how things worked in the syndicates.

"Who killed him?" He asked, looking around the room, a hopeful gleam in his eye. Sure enough, they all shook their heads. His heart sank, knowing what this would mean for the group. He turned back to Aito and put his hand on his hips. "Well?"

"It…I've never seen those bite marks before. They were clean cut, accurate…and not an ounce of blood was left in the body."

"He can't rise up then," Daiki declared, mentally picturing the situation before him. "Did anything about the bite mark stand out?"

"No. From what I can tell, it was a loner."

"This'll be fun," Hibiki muttered. "No one's claimed the body, and unless we find the vampire who did him in, it'll be an all out war zone."

"A newcomer, perhaps?" Momoka guessed. Out of everyone here, she had possibly the most intimidating aura. Her jet black hair wrapped around her ebony skin, taking on the appearance of a viper. She had purple eyes, poisonous eyes, that dehumanized anyone who stared in them for too long. Those colors, of course, were only contacts; she had trouble controlling her power, so she had to resort to such methods. She was also the wisest out of the group; her speculations were almost never wrong, and it got Daiki thinking.

He looked at Aito. "Are you sure you didn't recognize the bite mark?"

"Nope. Too clean for anyone's tastes."

"Is she a foreigner?"

"Maybe." Aito slid his gaze toward Hibiki, who returned his glare. "A couple of clothes were missing. Could be just a stray."

"Meaning we find them and convince them to join our side," Daiki concluded. "That way, Elizabeth's happy, and we get a new playmate." For a couple of dead men, they were ecstatic at the prospect. A new scapegoat? How wonderful!

"Aito," he continued. "Did you find Katsu on your way back? We haven't seen him in a while, so-"

"No. I'll look right now-"

"It's fine," Nishi cut in, pulling a blanket tighter around her frail body. With an innocent smile, she giggled and said, "Katsu will be fine. We just need to give him some time. That's all."


	4. Chapter 4

The cold, sharp glass cut through the city's lights, distorting the reflections around them, the appearances dismayed by the stark beauty surrounding them. Dark red curtains draped across their scene, and the see-through black of the cloth was splayed all over the ground. There was a couch in the opposite corner of the room, its Victorian armrests peering behind the tiny pillows seated on its cushions. The pink, skull-covered blankets cascaded to the cold floor, where the mirror shards were stacked neatly against the edge of a small table. A black candle holder revealed itself in the midst of the background, with papers thrown all about.

Yet at the front of it all was a large mirror, lavished with fake vines and black roses. The girl that appeared in such a mirror was enamored by her reflection, so she sat there for a while, stroking the glass lovingly. Her black eyes blinked, before the whites returned. They examined the ruffled miniskirt adorned around her thighs, and the black corset which barely covered her flesh. She stared at it for a while, before squealing with delight. Yes; this place will do just fine.

Megumi stood and twirled, reveling in her petty shallowness. She found herself frozen, before heading away and landing on that old, beat up couch. Even she had to admit she was surprised when she stumbled across the old building, abandoned, alone in its entirety. There was no one here, from what she could tell, and from the looks of things, no one even wanted to slate it for demolition. The owners were still holding out, trying to see if anyone was willing to entertain the thing for a little more. Naturally, they just forgot about it after a while, and unknowingly left Megumi a home, a nest, a safe place.

And the view up here was amazing! She only had to go out to the balcony and open the windows to take in Tokyo's majesty. The light posts looked like stars, and the humans, cruel and kind, were all ants to her. She could just reach out and squish them with her fingers. Megumi laughed at her silliness. But of course, with windows as large as these, she had to find curtains. The big kinds. Sunlight never did agreed with her skin.

She stood up and opened the glass, breathing in the fresh, night air. Her eyes flickered to the bag in the corner. That's right; she still had the entire store to herself. That guy was dead; she made sure he wouldn't rise, and since she was the one who killed him, it's only fair that she get all the merchandise. Megumi smiled in anticipation; well, she _was_ always a fashionista.

"See?" she spoke, particularly at no one. "I'm doing fine I'm my own." She blinked then, her finger flying up to her mouth. She narrowed her eyes, and ceased her incessant grumbles. That was a disturbing habit to get into; she didn't want to talk to herself like some crazy person. She should be out there, in the night, having some fun!

Yet her body felt tired. She pouted and shut the window, then turned and observed her new home. It seemed…rather large, a little lonely.

Megumi shook her head. Of course it was going to be like this for the first few days! She just needed to make new friends, that's all! But she wasn't going to get anywhere if she walked around in this mess. She stared at her clothes, and suddenly cringed at the basic patterns of her outfit. This thing was nothing like the merchandise in that guy's store.

Hurriedly, Megumi crouched down and started sorting through the clothes. She particularly liked the purple ones, though she had no idea why. She peeled away her corsets and donned on that lavender dress. The belt slipped around her waist easily, and she looked to the mirror and smiled, those two pearl fangs gazed seductively at her. She frowned; something was off.

She yanked away the ribbons on her hair, however painful it was. She straightened the pink strands and looked again, astonished by the transformation. It made her look more grownup, mature…human, she dared say. In her eyes, she was graceful, stunning. She attempted to practice her catwalk, but tripped. She huffed and did so again; she was going to the clubs tomorrow, and she needed to be ready, or else they'll laugh at her.

She didn't know how long she practiced; till she got bored probably. Or at least, until she saw the pink in the horizon. She stopped then and closed the curtains. She rushed to her couch, her body collapsing in relief, and watched as the room gradually became brighter and brighter. Hopefully, no one will notice the new resident.

She stayed that way, and slowly drifted into endless sleep.

* * *

Kaori sighed when she saw her chair today. She opened the bento Akira prepared for her (she saw him kissing some girl) and pulled out a napkin. The girl proceeded to pull away the gum stuck to her chair, and made a point to run her fingers through the surface before sitting down. She folded the napkin and put it in the pockets of her box. She opened her bag and expertly pinned the workbook in front of her.

Kaori was never good at studying, but after what she's seen, she was determined to leave Tokyo. She missed the quiet feel of a small village; it was the lesser of the two evils, at least. The people here were even more judgmental than Sotoba, and it seemed like all everyone cared about was finding their own cliches; did Natsuno really come from a place like this?

English…she moaned inwardly, but managed to motivate herself in doing a few of the problems. She couldn't hide the grimace from her face, and even when she got the problem right, when she flipped the page, she knew there was so much more torture to undergo.

Behind her, she heard Ken snickering. He whispered to his girlfriend. "Dork," he said loudly. She heard a few uncomfortable sounds from Yuki, and it took her a while to say her own insult, before pushing him away. "Not now," she muttered. It appears Ken took her distaste as a challenge, and continued to manhandle her. It took Kaori all her strength not to come to Yuki's aid.

Kosei-sensei came in, and with that, everyone came back to their seats, staring ahead at their…strong leader, who was about to break down, or throw the podium, whichever came first. He cleared his throat. "It seems like uh…seems like we will take a little field trip down to the nurse's office-"

Cheers erupted from the classroom. Kaori never looked up, but an apologetic bow came from her still. She knew how scared her teacher was of needles, even if he never admitted to such a trivial fear. The chairs screeched back; the students all waited for Kosei-sensei to exit the room. They followed closely behind, pushing Kaori along the way. She couldn't blame them; it was an exciting day. So she grabbed her things and walked forth, looking around in hopes of finding a nice, quiet place to study.

They were all outside now, and showed no signs of returning to the building. What? Wasn't the nurse's office supposed to be inside? She was about to ask the question to the person in front of her, when she felt a large, skinny hand on her shoulder. "Stupid," he jeered. "This isn't the countryside you know." But she could hear the same confusion in his voice.

Yet it was a nice change; she missed the smell of the grass and dirt. Not a lot of students were really happy with the prospect, but Kaori found herself focusing more now.

When the class stopped, she felt Ken shove her into the other student. She was determined not to look at him, at his sneering face. She calmed herself down; the day surely would've been a struggle, had not she seen Mr. Yuuki's face. She felt a little beam stretch across her face, as the students lined up. She took her place in the middle of the group, when one of the nurses gestured her forward. Kaori cocked her head, but stepped in front of the student, who was obviously relieved.

The nurse's finger said, _One more step._ She took another step.

_One more. _It put Kaori at the front of the line.

The nurse had auburn hair, and little brown freckles scattered across her cheek. Her bright, azure eyes captured many of their attention. She seemed a bit too innocent to stay in a place as gloomy as this. She evaded their curious glances and stepped in front of the chair, which was resting peacefully in the middle of the field. It looked like one of those fancy chairs you find in the offices of CEOs, or even in spas. Beside the nurse was a plate of needles and bandages; the scissors surely would frighten Kosei-sensei even more.

The faculty and volunteers remained steadfast. A few were hiding behind their bigger counterparts, hoping the nurse wouldn't see them. Were they really that scared?

Apparently they were, when she saw the art teacher raise her hand. The nurse turned and winked at her. "So…when will this be over? How much do you plan on taking?" she demanded.

"Just around a pint or so, depending on how big you are."

"Quit stalling!" someone screamed.

"Do it already!"

The nurse held up her hand, forcing the students to calm down. She took a needle and turned around. She thought for a moment, before choosing Mr. Yuuki; she looked back at the students, the needle swinging wildly in her hands. "All you monkeys who are so afraid of getting your blood drawn…well, this man is extremely brave! Better than you cowards!"

Everyone, even Kaori, giggled at her statement. She tapped the chair happily, and without hesitation, Mr. Yuuki lay there, and rolled his sleeve up, like any good patient would.

There, her classmates held bored expressions; they weren't going to get much from him. Kaori's eyes never left his face, however; there was something weird about it. It was like he was in a daze…but when he smiled at her, she dispelled her fears. She crossed her arms on her chest and took in the scene.

When he was done, he slid off the chair. He used his long arm and dragged out the cowering Kosei-sensei. Immediately, everyone cheered, encouraging the struggling man to allow the sweet nurse to draw his blood. He refused.

It was entertaining really, and Kaori would've joined in on the fun, if not for the collective plans behind her back. She blocked the words from her mind, and concentrated on the crying man, who was now groveling at the nurse's feet. Things weren't looking good; the principal just came out. She turned around and pushed the students aside, not wanting to see her sensei degraded any further.

When she returned home, she found Akira bouncing happily as he usually did. "Hey! Hey sis!" he kept saying.

She rubbed Love's stomach and set down her bag, the heat bearing down on her back. She stood up and closed the door. "What is it?" she asked, annoyed by his persistence.

"There's this old haunted building, and a lot of my friends want to go-"

"What?" She stared, shocked at her brother's suggestions. After all they went through, after all that's happened, he _still _wanted to interfere, especially with _that_ world? "Haunted?"

"Yeah," he said, relaxing his hyperactive attitude. "See, Sasaki-sensei says he doesn't believe in ghosts, but my friends say he's just a really big liar. So Mori-san and the others invited me to get evidence that ghosts really _do _exist!"

His excitement worried Kaori, and it wasn't long before she placed both hands on his shoulders, trying to get him to hold still. Sotoba haunted her, and she wasn't willing to let her brother relive those horrific experiences, whether the ghost was real or not. "You aren't going anywhere near that building."

He made that face again, the face that melted her heart and irritated her to no end; it was how he got her to agree with most of his requests. "You don't even know where the building is," he mumbled.

"It's dangerous," she said resolutely.

"But Sasaki-sensei needs to be taught a lesson."

She scooped Love in her arms and proceeded to walk into the kitchen, undeterred by Akira's stubbornness. "Sasaki-sensei is the teacher," she proclaimed, "not you. It's not your job to teach him what he already knows."

She left her brother standing there, unaware of the determination already controlling his body.

* * *

Natsuno stared out at the streets, the evening air sweeping over the avenue, as he watched the strangers wander by aimlessly. With every step they took, his eyes flickered at the shadows they made. He couldn't help but guess at their backgrounds, their stories, their motives; they entertained him so fully. Their happy faces, in their own little worlds, were what interested him most about them; usually, he was the one minding his own business.

Lately, things have begun to change. Natsuno found himself more drawn to the outside world, rather than his own situation. He'd always characterized himself as an observer, a mere shadow in the realm of the living, but at the same time, he was beginning to feel…a bit detached. He knew it was bad, horrid to even think about intruding on someone's life, and yet-

"Can I sit here?"

Natsuno slid his gaze toward the stranger before him. He didn't get a clear look at his face, but from his clothes alone, he was probably just another bystander. He didn't respond, and continued to look at the glass.

"I'll take that as a yes." he muttered gladly. So there he sat, leaning toward the jinrou. Hasn't this person ever heard of personal space? "Huh. You smell weird."

_Ignore him. He'll go away eventually._

"You're only getting water?" the man pressed, trying to get some answer out of Natsuno. "I mean, yeah it's good for you, but you'll never survive on just water alone. Hey, waiter!"

His head jerked toward the stranger. His fingers twitched in annoyance. The man sitting before him had a strange combination of dirt and green hair, and what's more, his clothes reeked of the underground brothels. His tired eyes emphasized his straining efforts to converse with everyone, and the lines on his skin hardened by the rejection. Natsuno was about to protest when the waiter came out with a plastic cup. He bowed before leaving. The stranger pushed the cup toward Natsuno. It smelled like chocolate. "Drink."

Natsuno turned back to the scene then, rejecting the man's demands. Someone was running around, trying to look for someone. Was it a lover maybe? A friend, a family member? His mind could keep guessing, if it wasn't for the man's persistence. He nearly shoved the drink in his face. "Come on," he growled. "Haven't you heard of hospitality?"

"Get lost."

"Ah!" the man pointed passionately. "See? Right there! That's progress right there!"

Natsuno sighed, then grabbed the cup and took a sip. He paused for a moment, an iron taste covering his tongue. He felt the drink revive his already parched veins, as he examined the surface, before looking up at the man. "I drank it."

"Tastes good, doesn't it?"

"Who are you?"

The man smirked and leaned back against his seat. It seems like he was interested in playing with his curiosity for a little. Natsuno settled in his chair, somewhat frustrated with the man's interference. "Depends. Who are you?"

"Koide." he answered bluntly.

"Koide, koide…never heard of it," the man concluded. "You're not from around here?"

"How's that any of your business?"

"Nah man. Just messing with you. Aito."

Aito held out his hand, fully expectant he'd receive some kind of contact. Natsuno kept himself distant, and viewed the man cautiously. He was a shiki, no doubt. What concern would this man have with him?

Unless, of course, it had something to do with that perverted old man…

"You new in town?" Aito asked then, after his arm awkwardly plopped in the space between.

"No."

Aito furrowed his eyebrows, confused by his answer. Natsuno decided to use the opportunity and wrenched himself from the humans. "Where'd you this blood from?"

"Oh? How's that any of your business?" Aito repeated jokingly.

"Because I'm drinking from it."

After a few moments of silence, Aito laughs nervously. He was frozen under Natsuno's glare, and the presence that radiated from him wasn't natural. "We have volunteers who donate their blood to us. Some of them even work here, you know…?"

The jinrou saw his face shining, and leaned away. Aito continued on with his banter. "Why? You interested?"

When Natsuno didn't answer, Aito sat back, running his hand through his hair. "If you are, I'll be here tomorrow. You can see for yourself what it's like here."

Natsuno said a simple thank you, before turning away. He placed his hand under his cheek and stared out at the scenes. He refused to answer any questions after that.

* * *

Author's Note:

I am the Seelie Court Jester, and I don't own Shiki.


	5. Chapter 5

Megumi shut the door behind her, and stared at her illustrious, unnaturally pale skin. The purple dress hung from her body, and embraced her curves in every way she knew that would compliment her. Her hair wasn't tied in her usual ponytails, though a skull pin pulled the fragile pink strands out of her face. She wore her white high-heeled shoes, her toe nails polished in black. She ran her hands through her dress, trying to make sure there was no unwanted residue on her body, before leaving the floor.

The building was high, she had to admit. It was quite a struggle to go from floor to floor, and though the twilight felt relaxing on her skin, Megumi wished Haruma had more blood inside his body. It would've been so nice to just levitate out from her window.

She climbed out the broken doors of the building, then looked around, content that no one was watching. She turned around and waved a tiny goodbye to her home. She could feel the glass staring after her, cheering her on for her newly found independence.

Her eyes adjusted to Tokyo's bright lights, and with that, she began walking, observing the stores around her. The signs still gave her a certain thrill, but she could feel the excitement slowly fading, her sweaty palms drying themselves after a while. The hard, resounding sound of her heels kept attacking the ground, which garnered the attention of a few unwanted men. A slight blush creeped to her face, yet with a happy smile, she showed off her new confidence. She stopped when she saw a club with bustling lights and loud music.

As she drew closer, the adrenaline sang through her veins. The colorful dance floor was right there. and so were its inhabitants. They were all cool, hip, and when they danced, they did so with style. There was a person behind some sort of desk, whose hands mirrored the music's addictive beats. It looked like a fun place to be in.

She approached the woman standing near the entrance. She wore a fur scarf around her neck, with a bright, orange minidress which restrained her body. When she folded her arms across her body, her already large cleavage almost popped from beneath the cloth. She had a smiley face tattooed over where her heart should be, which made Megumi wonder if the hostess already had a lover. The woman caught Megumi's curious gaze and gestured the girl over.

When the shiki was close by, the woman pushed a flyer into her hands. "Right inside," she whispered.

"T-thanks…" Megumi managed.

"Oh, sweet little thing aren't you?" She grabbed her arms and scrutinized her face, before shoving her away. "Sorry," the woman said harshly. "No kids allowed."

"I'm not a kid," she snapped.

"Show me some ID then?" When she saw Megumi's faltering face, the woman snickered. "Oh? No ID?"

Megumi was about to protest when she felt someone behind her. She hastily turned, but the man wouldn't let her. He grabbed her arctic fingers and kissed them, causing Megumi to squirm. "Sorry, but she's with me." the man whispered seductively. His breath reeked of garlic, but she forced herself not to move. She looked up at the woman, who gaped at the two with obvious jealousy.

Megumi laughed to herself and decided to play along. She turned the man's face toward her and kissed his cheek. The tiny gleam of her fangs stretched from under her gums, but she retracted them just to see the woman's face. "I'm new," she jeered. "Let me in?"

"F-fine," the woman stammered. "S-sorry to keep you, Ryusei-kun…"

Megumi's eyes grew wide, while "Ryusei-kun" looked down humbly. Before she could ask, the man pushed Megumi in, licking his lips at the sight of the trembling transvestite. When he was out of sight, Megumi leaned away from the man and bowed. "Thank you."

"Welcome. First time sneaking in?"

"Um, sort of." She faltered, wringing her hands uncomfortably. "I…just forgot my ID somewhere."

"No problem." The man ran his fingers through his hair, giving Megumi a better look at his face. Though his hair was a little odd, pink, with parts of his bangs dyed purple, and his appearance degrading, he was handsome. He wore a blue t-shirt with a black, sleeveless jacket to go with it, possibly to emphasize his bulging muscles. His jeans were ripped, but Megumi admitted they looked good. It took her a while to realize the man was staring at her. "So, I'll just go now-"

He grabbed her wrist. His hands were so forceful a growl rose from her throat. The man licked his lips. "You're feisty. What's your name?"

She furiously pulled her arm away from his. "Is that any way to treat a girl?"

"Suppose not." He leered forward, taking in her blank expression. "So now what? You gonna leave because of the scary man?"

"Irritating's more like it, and no." She turned her heel and started away, when his arm shot out and grabbed her waist. Megumi shivered when he buried his face in her skin. She raised her eyes. "Okay, you're creepy."

"You smell nice."

"That's sweat," she blatantly explained. What's with this city? Surely it's not like that everywhere; it can't be like this all the time. But it was already too late; her fantasy world was crumbling at the seams. His cheek rubbed against the nape of her neck, and at last, she pushed him off. "What's your problem?" she started to ask, when she felt the wall hit her back.

"You see sweetie. When I see someone as hot as you, I just get all tingly," the man whispered heavily, as he cornered Megumi. Her arm was the only thing that held him back. Any physical value he had was diminished when she imagined his slobbering tongue. "Okay, look I get it," she said quietly. "Thanks for letting me in, but I can take care of myself-"

"Sweetheart, I want _compensation." _

Megumi flicked her eyes in annoyance. She leaned forward then, and without hesitation, she bit him.

Her fangs pierced the soft, thin surface of his neck, and drew out her next meal. She locked him in an iron grip so he couldn't escape, and like all the other men, he struggled, squirmed, did anything he could to get out. She hugged him tighter, relishing in the strange taste. It was cold, she noticed, and it wasn't as vibrant as Haruma's. But she felt extremely invigorated; she could do anything in the world, be anyone, take any risks…

Then he shoved her away.

He fell to the ground, as he clutched his bleeding neck, the black covering his eyes. She stared at him, shocked at his panting. He clutched his bleeding neck, the black covering his eyes. Her finger went to her lips, and removed the blood from her mouth. "Y-you're…" She heard him say.

"You're one too, aren't you? That's why you helped me get in." She walked up to him, humored by how easily she frightened the boy. She crouched down and stroked his cheek. "You shouldn't play around with a girl's feelings. You never know what a woman scorned would do." She leaned in again, but the boy regained his senses. He stood rapidly and rushed out of the club; she thought she saw tears streaming from his eyes.

She stared after him, before turning to the partygoers. Once again, she checked to see if there was anything wrong with her appearance. Nothing.

She went toward the dance floor and imitated their movements. Soon, her body intermingled with theirs, as everyone swayed to her commanding, hypnotic sensations.

* * *

The building stood there, fearless, imposing, as it seemingly taunted Akira to try and explore its dark contents. The broken windows on the first floor cracked underneath the pressure of their feet, with obscene words sprayed everywhere on the inside. He gripped the flashlight, squinting his eyes to see if there was anything left in the darkness. He jumped at the sudden trembling behind him, and turned rapidly. No, just Mori-san.

Akira grabbed his friend and shook him. Though Mori-san claimed the appearance of a shiki, eerily pale, with almost red, wild eyes, he was nothing more than an easily frightened baby, who neither had the courage nor the wits to prove anyone wrong. "M-maybe we shouldn't do this," he stammered.

"Get a hold of yourself!" his friend urged. "Can you imagine the look on Sasaki-sensei's face when we find that ghost? He won't bully you anymore!"

"Y-yeah, but…" The poor boy looked like he was going to cry any moment. Akira went back to examining their surroundings. Honestly, he didn't find anything scary about it. He'd gone through more horrific things than this, so that _this _was nothing. He took his friend's arm and led him inside. "It's not even that dark out."

"Akira-san, what if we get in trouble or something?" he squeaked. "What if the cops show up? What if-?"

"Nothing's gonna happen." Akira said resolutely, clearly fed up with his companion's attempts to leave. He dragged the boy with him, removing the cobwebs from his sight. It was his only time to see something like this, since he told Kaori he was studying with someone at school. He understood her concerns, but his curiosity got the better of him; after all, what they were doing was harmless, wasn't it? It's not like anyone's gonna get hurt because of it.

The boys wandered the first floor for a couple more minutes. Just like any other child, Akira was getting bored, but when he caught sight of some stairs near the back of the doors, his enthusiasm returned. He grinned excitedly, as he pulled Mori-san toward the skeletal frames. He set down the flashlight and, with all his might, forced the doors open. He turned to his friend, who was now slowly backing away. He huffed. "It was your idea."

"No. It was _your _idea!"

"Come on." He swiftly came behind Mori-san and pushed him through the shadows. He shut the doors behind him and ascended the stairs. The cold hallways made Akira shiver, and his hands become cold after a while. What looked like mold was all over the walls, with tiny insects taking shelter from the intruders. He pushed on, all the while insulting Mori-san for pleading him to turn back.

When they got to the second floor, Akira looked around, a disappointed look on his face. "What? No ghost?"

"Great, let's go back."

"Wait." Akira tilted his head, and blinked.

There was a quiet groan from above. It kept banging against the floor, the ghost. The boys stared at the ceiling, until finally, they heard a piercing screech from the area. Mori-san jolted, and with little effort, he doubled back to the door, only to be stopped by Akira. "We could prove Sasaki-sensei wrong!"

"Right! Wrong! Not today!"

"Come…on you chicken!" he managed to shove Mori-san away from the door. The boys kept struggling until at last, Akira opened the second door, surprised at his own strength. His friend finally realized how futile it was to fight against Akira, and with a timid nod, he walked closely behind, jumping at every little thing that moved.

When Akira reached the third floor, he found Mr. Yuuki, writhing agonizingly, as he called out the name of his only son.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, you came back!"

Natsuno turned to the direction of the voice, both hands shoved in his pockets, his bangs falling to his face. Once again, he was near the same cafe, staring at the same people who chose to appear. Their finite forms became blurs when his eyes tore away from the streets. His expression visibly hardened when he saw Aito racing forth, acting as though he knew the jinrou from long ago.

It didn't particularly bother Natsuno, but a few people were staring at them funny, and in truth, he preferred avoiding their prying gazes. Characters, after all, weren't supposed to watch the viewer.

The shiki stopped short of him, panting shortly. "I didn't think you'd be _that _interested. Figured I'd have to drag you back."

Natsuno looked away, and saw a young, crying child in the streets. His face was covered with dirt with trash dangling from his hand. His hair was ragged, and what little clothing he had on him was just a bunch of rags strewn together. The one exception was a golden bracelet he had, and the little boy took care to put the fragile thing in his pocket, although he clutched it with all his might. He was about to go asking for directions. All in all, the moments were excruciatingly depressing.

Natsuno shrugged. "I didn't realize I had no choice."

"You did though!" Aito popped up, a bright smile burning his eyes. "Come with me willingly or I'll cut off your legs and feed you to my friends!"

"There's more of you?" he asked in that same, bored tone.

"Yeah, but we're all underground. Here, I'll show you." Aito gestured Natsuno forth, and for a split second, the tension ebbed. As much as Natsuno hated to admit it, he was curious. To create such a compromise between shiki and humans, especially when everyone minded their own, was incredible. _Never thought that'd happen in the big city, _he thought. He straightened himself and proceeded to follow Aito, looking back at the child. He pushed the image from his mind. "Don't worry," Aito said when they were away from the lights.

"You know that kid?"

"No. He was probably just playing around and got lost. You're not as cold as you seem, you know that?"

Tatsumi came to mind, and Natsuno fought down a shiver. It were those same feelings that got him killed, and apparently, he dragged a lot of people down with him. To be honest, he couldn't tell whether it was just a dumb joke, or if reality decided to make him its new plaything. Either way, the comment didn't agree with Natsuno, and somehow, he radiated an unwelcome pulse from his body, which made Aito shut up.

It didn't take long, but finally, there they were. Natsuno examined the red light district, blinking away the stray lights. It was that spot where he saw the bleeding woman. He narrowed his eyes. "Are your friends here?"

"No. This is just a refuge, you know? For the homeless or needy, or-"

"Humans and vampires live together?"

Aito chucked sheepishly as the two continued walking. The alleyways were as sinister as usual, and the hostesses were shoving themselves to unsuspecting tourists. He saw their fiery blushes, their eyes housing no ill will. "Yeah, sometimes. Other times, we just do business; it's one of those relationships."

"You get blood from human volunteers? A bit too light, if you ask me." Natsuno inquired, staring out at the same mist that blinded him so readily. The elderly okiagari chased him down these tunnels, so determined to feed from his victim. Why was he so excited though? He gorged himself on blood; his veins showed it.

As he expected, Aito nodded. "Yeah, you're right. There are a few local hospitals nearby, so whenever they have some spare blood, they give it to us. Tokyo's got a bustling population."

"You're pretty cocky."

"I'm not the only one." He paused and turned to Natsuno, a childlike friendliness upon his face. "Look around you. Everyone here's been discarded one way or another. We're just trying to help each other out; the world's already hard enough as it is. Life's too sad if we just abandon one another. You got me?"

"Yeah," Natsuno stated afterwards. Aito cocked his head, a nervous simper bubbling from his lips. "You look like you don't believe me."

"There was a vampire here, right down that tunnel." Natsuno lifted his fingers and pointed straight down the dark road before them. "He was chasing a woman." His voice was low enough to not invite anyone's ears, yet for some reason, Aito grabbed his arm and forced it back to his side. "Yeah," he whispered back. "We've been trying to catch him for some time."

Natsuno leaned away. "You seem pretty attached."

"Well, let's just say I used to know the guy. It's pretty tough, but I'll convince him someday. He doesn't have to run forever."

"Hmm." He looked back at the brothels, the lanterns. Paper decorations sprang from one post to another. A couple of notes relayed from one instrument to the next, and the meals left out were a mix of wine and blood, both of which were rarely spared. He stared for so long Aito waved his hand in front of his face. Natsuno glared aggravatingly at him, so much so he flinched. "S-sorry Koide. Didn't know if you were still with me."

"I am."

"S-so! What'd you think?"

Aito looked at him happily. His openness reminded him of Tooru, but his feral eyes kept indulging in black and red. This entire talk screamed for Natsuno to run, and the shadows underneath those lights kept gazing at him amusingly, trying to decipher his thoughts. Aito put his hands to his hips and acted as if they were friends just making plans together, but Natsuno knew better. He and his "friends" probably needed allies, and since Natsuno was down here all alone, Aito figured he could easily dispatch him should he put up a struggle. All futile, of course.

He scrutinized the faces behind the curtains. Tiny children, human and shiki, were hidden in their mother's grasp, like the scenes back in Sotoba. Toys, thoroughly chewed, were scooped up by curious hands and beaten by tiny mouths and stone floors. He smelled meals ready to be eaten, and the inviting voices from those on the inside greeting one another were trying to get a taste. Men were conversing with one another, while lively gossiping about the beauties of morals, good and evil. Their drinks slushed from one side to the other, so consistent with that of the outside world. The brothels illuminated with the soft etchings of lovers, who were willingly giving up any insanity left in the world. It seemed that here, innocence and depravity mingled with one another, conjuring up a sort of illusion which resulted in this place.

And as interesting as it was, Natsuno decided not to stay. "It's a good place, but it's not for me. Thanks again, for the blood."

He started to walk away, when once again, Aito caught his wrist. He was frightened, terrified, contrasting so sharply to the jaunty, confident guy Natsuno had become acquainted with.

However, the expression only lasted briefly, and at last, Aito let go. As Natsuno fixed his collar, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Listen…come back here any time. Just don't get yourself caught, alright?"

Natsuno raised a delicate eyebrow. "Caught?"

"Ah…we've been having a… a bit of a problem with strays. Seems like they hate themselves for being who they are, so they're taking it out on everyone else."

"Hunters?"

"You could say that. We're in a bit of a bind." He let out an anxious laugh. "A couple of days ago, one of our friends was murdered. He was human, and he owned a really big fashion company. We're all on the look-out, so if you see someone strange, or if you think someone's…stalking you, you could stay here."

"Thanks for the invitation. Really." Natsuno nodded toward the man. He turned his heel and started away. Still, he heard Aito's voice. "Hey, don't hesitate! We're buddies, you know!"

_Yeah right. _Natsuno made no attempt to respond as he crept out of the district. But it was too late; his interest peaked.

By the time he came back to his normal, little cafe, the child was gone. Natsuno blinked, then settled in his usual spot. He leaned against the glass and stared out at the people, unknowingly scanning for any presence of the child.

Nothing.

* * *

"How was it?" Nishi pressed when Aito returned to the base. Her skinny arms tugged her body into a tight ball, and her eyes were wrought with worry as she approached the man. Even after all that tough talk, she was still concerned. "Did you find Katsu?"

Sadly, Aito shook his head, the sorrow draping itself across his delicate features. He put both hands on Nishi's shoulders, trying to stop her shaking. "Where's Daiki?"

"In here." Momoka stated, revealing herself from beneath the green curtains, happily separating the ropes from each other; she's never liked the dampness of the tunnels, so she's endeavoring to imitate the brothels in Shinjuku. Already, Aito could see the lanterns hidden so effortlessly from behind her legs. He nodded and proceeded to climb the ladders the curtains intwined with.

The base was separated into four quadrants, as Aito so brutally realized. Each room was connected by a series of tunnels, followed by bridges and ladders that made it a complicated maze. Daiki made it a point to stay in one room, but in the event of an invasion, or a purge even, he required everyone memorize the routes, so that they could, hopefully, escape. One thing irked Daiki though, and that was how all the tunnels managed to lead to the main sewer valves, thereby cutting off any means of a "clean escape." Unless they played their cards right, the enemy could just corner them, then destroy them.

And it was that same place Aito found Daiki, lying on the cold ground, both arms behind his head. No matter how ferociously the leader tried denying it, Aito knew Daiki grew fond of the place. It'd been his first home since the Nanking Massacre, and even with the Baroness breathing down their necks, it was a pretty relaxing place to be in.

Aito tapped Daiki's shoulder with the hem of his shoe. He opened his eyes, and from then, he stood, brushing away the dust from his body. "That's odd. Usually, you'd be out the whole night."

"Yeah. I would."

"Something the matter?"

"Katsu's been killed, and I found the guy who did him in."

Daiki sighed, and ran his hands through his wet hair. His suspicions were finally confirmed, as he analyzed the situation. He never exposed any sort of dangerous emotion to the group, else it'd prove fatal in the long run. It wasn't like Aito to make mistakes either; the situation was just too fragile for that. "Who?"

"Some guy called Koide. He's different from us; I think he's a jinrou."

_Jinrou_. For the past years now, Elizabeth had been wanting the unique, the strongest, to serve by her side. She expected everyone to get along after her decisions, accept them like any other order. If word got out…

"Where's Katsu's body?" he asked.

"I cremated him some hours ago."

Daiki's eyes widened, but before he could interrogate him, the shiki exhaled sharply, the lament written all over. "It's amazing, isn't it?" Aito pressed, as he folded his arms to his chest. "?Usually, stuff like stakes and sunlight would get us. Decapitation would help too, but…stealing the blood of another vampire… That's just low."

Daiki stared at him. "You were out there, in front of everyone. It's not like you could just kill him."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Did you invite him to stay?"

"I did. Kid just wasn't interested."

Daiki bit his lip, but then shut down his burning rage. "Why? Why did he-?"

"Apparently, Katsu was chasing someone, and the kid followed him."

"What? Is he some kind of hero or something?" To his utter astonishment, Aito gripped his shoulders, challenging Daiki to say anymore. He stared at the shiki for a while, before letting go. "Don't know. He came down here because I said we had human volunteers. Just sympathetic maybe."

"That idiot," Daiki murmured. "You think Elizabeth knows?"

"Don't know."

"Is that your answer for everything?"

"Unless we can find this kid, I've got nothing. But…I've got a feeling we'll see him again."

Daiki calmed then, and his mind became clear. He slid his eyes toward his companion. "You told him about Haruma?"

"I did. He'll be on the lookout now."

"You want him to be our eyes and ears?"

"If that's okay with you, of course."

"You're always biting off more than you can chew." Daiki stood up then, and started towards the exit, the waters running behind him. "You think you can convince someone like _that _to join our motley crew?"

"Either that, or Elizabeth will have our hides."

The two men agreed to the compromise. They left that peaceful place, in favor of their more chaotic homes. Truthfully, the predicament called "Koide" was the only thing Daiki was suitably prepared for. He didn't think he could handle anything more, yet something else ruined it, something loud and obnoxious and annoying.

Hibiki had just entered the room, panting helplessly. The dye in his hair was already fading in the darkness, revealing a much darker shade of red. His wild eyes were looking at everything, and his clothes were ruined. That's right; he wanted to "go out into the world" after complaining about Aito always "getting to have the fun." Though he was terrified, he was determined to impress them, trying to get them to see he wasn't as useless as they made him out to be.

And to see him in state was…truly…demeaning.

But his flurried words were what interested Daiki. When those incoherent statements failed, he simply removed his jacket and shoved his neck in Daiki's face. Aito growled, while Daiki pushed the boy back.

They just found Haruma's killer.

* * *

Megumi strolled along the store windows, her monotone sounds echoing through her ears. The glittery dresses drew her attention once time after time, her eyes steadily taking in all those fabrics, those wondrous clothes. They were surrounded by the same, dazzling sparkles that seemed to take hold of every other human, and the big, elegant signs swept everyone's eyes. As always, their senses of styles were undeniably beautiful.

But tonight, Megumi merely contented herself with her old, worn out clothes. She didn't go out to the clubs again; she was itching for a change in scenery. So she wore her pink dress, overlaid with black stripes. Her ponytails were up again, as she no longer cared about others' opinions in her strange fashion. Her red nails lightly skimmed the shimmering surface, as she walked from one window to the next, never stopping at one place for too long.

She didn't know why. She could't comprehend the dullness of Tokyo's once vibrant scenes. Was she just used to it? Was it time to move? Her thoughts kept ringing when she accidentally bumped into someone. She moved back with an irritated glance, when a lone child sat there before her.

Megumi blinked, and before she knew it, she crouched down. "I-I'm sorry," the child managed to get out. Filthy rags covered his skin, and his hair dripped in some sort of liquid she'd rather not see. She was about to stand and chide him when she saw a woman racing toward them, tears streaming from her eyes. Megumi sat there, frozen in place, when she realized the child was out of her sight and in the woman's grasp.

Muffled sobs poured from the woman, as she gripped tightly onto the boy. Megumi shied away from those embarrassing people, ready to race away, but the boy tugged at her fingers. "Miss?" he asked innocently.

She paused for a moment, before wrenching her hand away from his. "Yeah? What?" she demanded hatefully. Weird; she'd act polite at a time like this. That was how you were supposed to deal with everything, anyways. She looked up to the woman. "Hey, keep an eye on your kid next time."

The boy pouted, and before long, he pulled his mother's arms around him and stood haughtily. "Hey, don't talk to mamma that way!"

"No! I'm very sorry miss. We'll be on our way now," the woman bowed low and tried pushing her child forth. She started scolding the boy when he stopped, gazing carefully at Megumi's face. She flipped her hair pridefully. "I know I'm beautiful," she said happily. "What of it?"

"You're sad."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. But she shook her head. He was just a kid, wasn't he? A kid covered in dirt and mud, and he reeks of trash! What did he know of anything? She huffed. "I'm happy. Perfectly happy."

"No you're not." The boy whispered sagaciously. "Do you hate it here?"

"What? That's crazy!" she shouted. The mother winced at her frustrated tone. "I love it here! There's nowhere else I'd rather be! In fact, I was just having fun, and if it wasn't for you, I'd still-"

"You're lonely," the boy continued.

Before Megumi could say anymore, the mother ushered him away, apologizing to no end. When the pair disappeared, off in the distance, in the crowd, Megumi found herself staring in their particular direction. She blinked, then continued on with her activity, just as lost as that child was.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Kaori didn't go to school.

She stared at Mr. Yuuki's cold face, with her tiny hands trembling on her knees. The whiteness of the room reminded her too much of funerals, and the antiseptic scent that came off of the sheets didn't suite well with her. In fact, she shuddered at the thought of being beside Mr. Yuuki at all. However, she forced herself at his side, and prayed to someone, anyone that he would get better.

The nurse had just come in with a new, fresh bag of blood. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bloody bag as the nurse set up the blood transfusion. He turned around and asked Kaori if she wanted to stay. She did.

She stood up and walked to a corner so she wouldn't get in the way, and watched while he worked. She flinched as he jabbed the needles into her caretaker's small, peculiar veins. She took in Mr. Yuuki's cold, lifeless body, and the warm person next to him, who was treating this like he would any other case. Well, of course he would. He was used to dealing with stuff like this. It was so commonplace he knew the cures like the back of his hand!

Kaori thanked him with a bow, which seemed to fluster the nurse. He scrutinized Mr. Yuuki, before smiling. "He your dad?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Lucky man then." Without another word, he strolled away, already flipping the pages in his clipboard, his eyes scanning for his next patient. Kaori, once again, returned to her comfortable chair, placed her hands on her lap, and simply waited.

When Akira found him, he called Kaori to come over, the rising panic evident in his voice. For the first time in a long while, she was happy he ignored her orders, and with Mori-san's help, they carried the ailing man out of the building and called the nearest hospital. Akira made a point to check Mr. Yuuki's neck, trying to see if there were any okiagari bites, but Kaori swatted him away. She would have none of his behavior at that moment.

Anemia. A class 3 hemorrhage, or extreme blood loss. That's what the doctors told them, at least. Kaori was shocked after that; Sotoba's death came rushing back to her like an unwanted nightmare. Natsuno, her mother, her father…they all came back, greeting her with their demonic arms outstretched. She waited until the doctors left did she start breaking down. She felt Akira's arms come over her shoulders, and through her tears, she could see her little brother shaking; he was terrified too. Had the okiagari followed them here? What'd they want? What were they after?

After Akira left, Kaori refused to follow him, and stayed in the hospital with the very confused doctors. They were still trying to determine how Mr. Yuuki lost so much blood, especially when there were no obvious injuries present. There was no internal bleeding, no history of medical problems or diseases, no signs of abuse, and with the exception of his repeated calling for Natsuno, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Kaori closed her eyes, and wrapped her fingers around Mr. Yuuki's hand. Both she and Akira knew that Natsuno was dead. They had from the moment they saw Sotoba in the newspaper. The bodies, the stakes, everything had remained as it was. The corpses were strung together, buried alive, staked, beaten down, run over, tied to nails and trees…it might as well have looked like a concentration camp instead of a village. And all while that was happening, Kaori was hiding in fear, trying to preserve her unnecessary life.

She bowed her head, hot tears spilling over. Had the evil follow them here? Would it be just another replay of the Sotoba mess? Could she even handle herself, as she did back then? "Natsuno…"

She looked up and hastily wiped her eyes. Mr. Yuuki's pale, weary face was buried in the back of her mind. Though the doctors thought it nothing more than a lonely illusion, she knew full well why he called out to his dead son. The attacker might've looked like Natsuno. Might've even robbed his makeshift grave and stole his clothes for the fun of it.

"Natsuno…" he called out again.

She leaned back against her chair and put her head in her hands. "Natsuno's dead," she said at last. "We're the ones who killed him." She smirked painfully at the memory. "Remember? You never let us protect him from the okiagari. You said you'd help him, but that was just a lie, wasn't it? And now you're here, suffering the same fate."

She allowed herself to ease to a soft, broken smile. "You know, I think I'll stay the night. Akira can come too, so you won't be by yourself. That'd make you safe, right?"

No answer came from Mr. Yuuki.

* * *

Megumi had frequented the club for a while now. The bored expression plastered on her face became permanent, along with the lack of excitement she once had for for the club. It was just the same scenes, over and over again. People were dancing to the same tunes, doing the same moves, making the same love to someone once or twice a night. The colors that once drew her to such a place now hurt her eyes, and the loud, raucous music beat down her ears like an irritating, unwanted scream. It was a familiar pattern she'd come to recognize, and truthfully, she didn't like it at all. How people managed to do this every night, she didn't know. She only came here for the free blood.

The police were still searching for that guy's… Haruma's killer. She watched from the sidelines as they interrogated the people in the host clubs, brothels, slums, anywhere. They were so desperate, and it was apparent by their lack of sleep and their abusive behaviors. It amused Megumi, so much so she'd rather observe them than be in the club.

She had her eyes closed and leaned against the wall. A couple of guys earlier were bothering her, asking if she wanted to dance. Her cool pupils fixed themselves on their necks, the veins coursing with alcohol and opium. Not to mention they smelled bad, and they were anxiously arrogant, kind of like Masao, who thankfully died in Sotoba. And besides, she's already fed an hour ago. She raised her eyes and turned away. They lost interest after that.

She yawned after a few more minutes. If she was that bored, she should just go out into the city and play for a bit. Go to another club, with similar scenes, similar people, and see if she liked it there. Highly unlikely, she might add.

When she exited the club, she turned east and started walking to particularly nowhere. Automatically, her eyes narrowed, the whites revealed at last. There were two presences behind her, one of which she recognized as "Ryusei-kun." The other, she believed, was a stranger, one with no life or ambition. He was weaker than her, since she could tell he hadn't been feeding, though his murderous intent was still evident. She took in their auras and continued walking. What business did they have with her?

The shapes passed her by, and the normally wondrous, silky clothing she'd come to love had slowly become dull in her eyes. She'd only stop to weave her own little accessories around the plain dresses and jeans. All in all, they seemed too plain for her, and rarely did any store meet her expectations.

She turned into a dark alley. There were no humans here. So she stared at her so-called stalkers and regarded them evenly. "Can I help you?" she asked darkly.

"Th-that's her!" Ryusei-kun frantically whispered. "She's the one who killed Haruma!" Ah, so that's how they knew. She could see the bite marks on his neck, the ones she made a while back. He was the only vampire who frequented the club, as far as she was concerned. Was he mad she stole his feeding grounds?

She twirled her bangs as the other man examined her. He had green and brown hair, something that curled down to his neck, and his clothes were dark and tattered. She liked the velvet skull T-shirt that clung to his skin, and his nails were black. He, at least, had a sense of style. "Hey you." He took a threatening step forward. "Were you the one who killed that guy?"

"Don't know. I killed a lot of people," she said lazily.

The guy winced at her tone. Carefully, he revealed his fangs. "I'll ask you again. Were you-"

"Why? You're not cops." she snapped annoyingly, stepping forward and staring them down. "What right do you have to talk to me that way?" The man caught her wrist and tried forcing her back, but she wouldn't have it. With one hand, she dug her nails into his chest, and with another arm, she shoved him to the ground. Her heels kept stabbed the man's left knee to keep him in place. She leered over him like a shadow, and turned her full back from Ryusei-kun.

"Aito!"

"W-we're…" 'Aito' struggled to say, as his body writhed in pain. He looked like cockroach from all the way here. "We're in the syndicates-"

"Syndicates? Is that supposed to impress me?"

"Y-yeah! Only the best of the best can be apart of it!" Ryusei-kun squeaked nervously. "We serve the Baroness!"

She sighed, and gazed back at Aito. He really was pathetic. Who were they anyways? Just a couple of foot soldiers for the Big Bad? They, if anything, seemed pretty disposable; no one would care if they simply vanished. And it's not like they had much else to live for; just who was the Baroness anyways?

But then something in her memory jogged. Syndicates…Yoshie said something about them. They were apart of the big city unit who went on kidnapping people and bringing them to the villagers who couldn't feed for themselves. They were pretty big back then, but now that Sotoba had been destroyed, all the kidnappings had ceased. No one wanted to return, after that horrible incident.

She shifted her weight from one leg to another, and swiftly backed away from Aito's leg. She folded her arms and carefully surveyed Ryusei-kun's face. He was shaking, though his red eyes were glowing in pride. The murderous intent was gone, and all that was left was a sad, pathetic duo that didn't know how else to go about their night. If anything, it made their "syndicates" seem like a ragtag group of killer wannabes. The aspect was neither thrilling nor amusing.

Aito sat up and rubbed his knee. "Those things hurt."

"Yeah, that's why women wear them." Megumi replied.

"I thought that was for torture."

"What'd you morons want with me? Want me to join your "syndicates"?" Her pink hair fell to her eyes. "If you're as weak as this, no thanks."

"Wait miss-"

"You can't even fight off a woman!"

"Look," Aito growled. "We haven't been feeding. Haruma was supposed to be our kill, but you got to him, so now we're in really deep shit."

"Is that my fault?" Megumi flipped her hair, and almost took the skull ribbon she had with her escaping fingers. She sighed and removed the ribbons altogether, her ponytails cascading down her back. "He was going to rape me, so I killed him. Is that so wrong?"

"Which is why we can help each other," Aito said. "We can give you protection from the other syndicates, as long as you join our group. A pretty girl like you is easy game for everyone else."

"Oh?" She couldn't help but laugh at the notion. She'd been living here for a month now, and no one had ever approached her! Was she really good at staying hidden, or were they all just too afraid to come to her on their own? "Easy game?"

"Yeah. Unlike us, sweetheart, there _are_ nasty monsters out there who would love to rip out your heart. You've been gaining a lot of attention, haven't you?"

She scoffed. "Go bother someone else."

Aito placed his hands behind his back and smiled. She was going to be a tough one, that girl. There was something about her he couldn't place, something that cried out for saving. She was probably alone, lost, wandering from place to place without any specific goal. All her loved ones and dreams were dead, so what else did she have to live for? She was bored! "We could give you assignments."

"I'm not the type for dirty work."

"It doesn't have to be dirty. Don't you want to see the Baroness."

"I've never heard of her."

"No, but you have heard of those organizations. You know, the ones who pay to kill?"

Megumi's interest sparked, the dark, graceful elegance she came to adore now blooming before her. Here it was, the chance to make something of herself in the shiki world. She could easily see herself draped in crimson and black, with tiny roses decorating her neck. The silver knives would gleam so vibrantly along the moon's glow, and her pale skin would decorate the outlining of those sweet, sweet nightmares. She would be above the world of humans; their rules wouldn't pertain to her. The city of lights were relatively boring really anyways, and unless there was some corruption, she might as well have just returned to Sotoba and rot in that deep, dark hole.

She leaned forward. She wasn't really in need of any money either. She could just bite a guy and have him pay for everything. But the sheer awe of the prospect made her feel an adrenaline she hadn't seen in a while. "I'm listening."

"Meet us at the Bethlehem hospital in three days. At midnight of course. You'll meet our employer there."

"Do you have to stay in one place?" she questioned quite eagerly. "Can you travel anywhere?"

Aito smirked. "Isn't that an obvious answer? What? Don't we have two feet?" She blinked in pleasant surprise. She wasn't expecting such a find to just come up here.

But surely there had to be strings attached. Megumi didn't have to trust some stranger's word, and if there was money and blood along with joining their group, there had to be some fee involved. She shivered at how Tatsumi easily manipulated her into doing his bidding, how he demanded her not to even touch Natsuno, else she be purged. She closed her eyes and looked up. "Three days?"

"Yeah. Look, I can see this is a lot to take in, so we'll leave you alone for tonight. But we still want you to come to the hospital."

"R-right. I'll be there."

"Good." And with that, the two men vanished, though Ryusei-kun was a bit of a struggle. His stammering sentences went along the heartbroken lines of why he let her go, especially after puncturing his "gorgeous neck." She giggled a little, but held it down before the two left, seemingly content with their encounter.

She leaned against the walls, the shadows dancing around their usual, normal lights. Huh. She could travel. She didn't have to stay in one city. She could go from place to place, without so much as a care in the world. She could rise up the ranks as she did back then, killing and murdering for the sake of it. She didn't have to deal with the poisonous blood of her usual prey; she could have clean blood, something she longed for since her time in Sotoba. She could do anything, be anyone, and all the boredom and pain would go away.

It'd be like a drug, almost.

She felt herself sinking to the ground, landing in, thankfully, dry concrete. Her hair hung all over her face, and her eyes were adjusting to the darkness once more. She was facing a new, exciting life on her own. And in truth, it felt a bit lonely.

No. That's not any way to think. This was what she wanted all along, right? To be scouted and to party in the clubs all night?


	8. Chapter 8

It was strange. He didn't particularly like the smell of the brothels, nor did he enjoy the constant scenes of sex and poison. He always kept getting weird glances, and while his face openly expressed his confusion and hostility, theirs was only shrouded mystery. Moreover, whenever he sat down, shiki and humans alike would rapidly come up to him, wondering what a stranger like himself was doing down here, and offer him wine and blood. It was troublesome really, the way they bothered him; it's like they've never seen a jinrou before.

But for some reason, Natsuno could never leave.

As much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed the warm, vibrant environment the underground tunnels offered him. The covers he acquired gave way to some privacy, though he always found stray children outside the openings, and the inhabitants' slow but compassionate smiles lulled him to ease. The hearths were always lit, with the slow embers usually blew past his cheek. Their hot ashes were swept up by fathers, mothers, kids who were playing house; the scenes reminded him of Sotoba. It was a welcome distraction from the lonely stories of Tokyo.

He was sitting on the curve of the tunnels. A few footsteps ran behind him here and there, with playful laughters abounding in the dark air. In the middle of the calm, he found a more turbulent force slowly coming up to him. It was her again. "Did you find the guy?" he asked Nishi.

Nishi was another resident Aito introduced him to when Natsuno first joined. When he saw her, he wasn't incredibly interested; she was always shy and hid behind bigger people and objects. She never met anyone's eye. But he took note of how she always followed him, trying to hide her presence as desperately as she could. When he confronted her finally, she went down on her knees and apologized profusely. She simply never saw anyone as willful as Natsuno.

He saw her fangs when she cried.

They were tiny, young, nothing like the sharp weapons Tatsumi, or even Tooru, wielded. They were round, chibi stubs, and they were cute enough for him to see she was incapable of hurting anyone. And the way she hugged herself, so tight he was surprised her spine hadn't already cracked, was astonishing as well. So as far as he knew, she was the baby of the tunnels, a little sister everyone cared for.

Slowly, the tiny girl shook her head, and Natsuno returned to the conversation at hand. "D-don't worry about it. How about you? D-do you like your time here?"

"It's nice, I guess," he said nonchalantly, causing the girl's face to brighten. She was cute, always trying to appease the various visitors that came down here. She didn't like conflict, but because brawls here were frequent, she took care to hide beneath the shadows, never minding how uncomfortable it was for her when people absently brushed up against her.

As expected, Nishi nodded happily. "I'm glad you like it! Can I…you know…?" Natsuno shrugged, and without further hesitation, the young okiagari plopped next to him, kicking her legs outwards. She followed his eyes at the open space between, and scrutinized it, as if wondering what he could possibly have seen in that nothingness. She leaned forward. "What'd you see?"

"Your hair in my eyes."

She giggled saccharinely. "No, no. I mean, I follow your eyes, but they're looking at emptiness. You see everything, but nothing's reflected there. I-I'm sorry." She suddenly stood up and jumped away, wringing her tiny white skirt roughly. "I-I didn't mean to be-"

"No, it's fine. Just thinking to myself," Natsuno reassured. Her tense shoulders immediately went limp, and her puppy dog eyes came back again. He cringed at the sight; was she going to just stalk him now? "Are you going to sit back down?"

"U-um. Yes!" she cried out, and sat closer to him. He leaned away, but her body trailed after, absorbing the sun's warmth, a gift from his latest ventures out into the "scary world." It was awkward for him when her face snuggled into the folds of his jacket. "The sun feel really good," she mumbled softly.

"Y-yeah, sometimes."

"Hey, Koide-san?"

"What?"

"Do you think Katsu will ever come back?"

Katsu again. Besides his experiences in the human world, Nishi was never really interested in anything else. According to Aito, it'd been a little over a month since the man went missing. Everyone in the brothels were worried, especially Nishi, who endlessly kept interrogating herself about whether or not her fallen comrade will return. Many times over Natsuno kept promising her everything would be alright, that they'll find this strange creature called Katsu. But those were just empty words; they never really did.

So he just patted her head, like he always did, and said, "I don't know anymore."

She clung to him so hard her nails dug into his skin. Natsuno didn't know what else to say, and if it hadn't been for the footsteps behind him, Nishi never would've released him. She sprung away from him the moment her ears perked up. He watched her as she scurried off toward the sandy haired man with open arms. Natsuno stood. "Daiki!" Nishi squealed.

"Hey…" Daiki let her bury her head against his chest. After a moment or so, he shooed her away. With one hand, she waved goodbye to the two teens, before speeding off, probably to play with the pregnant woman next door. Her hair dragged behind her as she rounded the corner of the dimly lit street. Soon, the strands disappeared altogether.

Natsuno turned. "What's with you?" he asked incredulously. "You never show up here." It was a rare occurrence for anyone actually. He met Daiki when he came to the tunnels a second time. He helped Natsuno assimilate to the culture of the tunnels, and because of that, the jinrou had come to regard him as a kind of close acquaintance, one he didn't mind talking to once in a while. He wasn't going anywhere, after all.

Daiki sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, well. A lot of things going on lately."

"Oh?"

"See, we have this new recruit. We're not sure how they're going to turn out. I'm a bit nervous."

Natsuno chuckled slightly, and he revealed his former personality underneath the cold exterior. Seems everyone in the group had that effect on him. "You'll be fine. Besides, it's not like they're insane or anything."

"Yeah. Hopefully. Who knows? Maybe they can help us run the hospital."

"What hospital?" It never occurred Natsuno to ask. Maybe because no one was being killed or tortured. With the scenes as peaceful as they were, it was hard to think of anything else. Daiki, however, gladly answered his question. "Bethlehem hospital. It's just down the Crossroads in Tokyo. It's open 24/7."

"Good luck then."

"Thanks. What about you?" Daiki pressed as he pulled up his hood. "What'll you be doing?"

"Resting, then I'll be out again."

"Alright. Aito told you about the hunters, right?"

"Don't worry. I'll take care of them."

"Great. You're a big help Natsuno."

Natsuno didn't respond. He merely brushed past him and walked in Nishi's direction, just to make sure the girl didn't get herself into any trouble while he was gone. He felt Daiki's eyes on his back, but continued to ignore them. He had more than enough on his plate already, Daiki. Natsuno didn't need to be in the way.

He never caught the bloody irises Daiki revived, nor did he feel the grudge burning beneath the shiki's skin.

* * *

Later that night, Megumi paced back and forth nervously in front of the hospital doors. She was, once again, in that purple dress, with her black ribbons tied in her hair. She wore her flats this time, which consisted of a pair of black, skull patterned shoes that matched the belt she had on. Her cold, pasty skin looked normal this time, but only under the careful guise of the fluorescent lights nearby. She bit her black painted nails in anxiety, never once stopping to see the human visitors passing by minute by minute.

They all had somewhere to be, so what right did she have to be in the way? Was someone waiting for them? Were they waiting for someone? Was that someone so late they wrought themselves with agony trying to see where that person was? So frustrating sometimes. If only she could look out just reach out and empathize with them.

She almost did too, in fact. A young man caught her attention, a man who looked like he was in his early twenties. He had natural, lively blond hair that draped across his eyes whenever he moved, though his head was placed in his arms, as if guarding himself from the miseries of the world. She could see his chocolate eyes even from here, and the shadows underneath the sockets told her he hadn't been sleeping. His heartbeat was slow; was he depressed?

Megumi blinked. He seemed familiar. Who was he? She started to walk toward him, but a hand fell upon her shoulder. She hastily turned, then relaxed. It was Aito.

He gave her a goofy smile. "Glad you could make it! I was a little scared you know. Did I make you wait too long?"

She swatted his hand away and gave him her usual, annoyed glare. "Not really a gentleman, are you?"

"My apologies. This way." He held open the glass door, and gestured her in. Megumi turned to examine the youth once more. She didn't know how long she stayed there, seconds maybe, before at last, she turned around and entered the hospital. The two disappeared behind the white, with Aito leading.

The patients here were all okiagari, she realized, when they passed the waiting rooms. Here they all were, just conversing, laughing, playing with one another. Small children ran across the halls, and she stopped to make way for them. Her eyes stared at the imprints of their footsteps, and even as they walked past she could never forget how tiny those feet were. Scribbles and drawings were strung up clumsily on the walls, with painted handprints on every corner. She never saw any red though.

They both came to the elevator. Aito closed the door, and pressed the very top, floor twenty-four. He stepped back, and they both listened to the silent hums of the elevator. Megumi heard herself take a deep breath, which made Aito snicker. "Nervous already? Come on. You beat me up, didn't you?"

"Just shut up." she snapped.

"Ooh, scary."

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Unfortunately, no. Ah, we're here." And true to his word, the beep came. The sleek, white doors slid open, and the two shiki walked out. Megumi's eyes widened at the golden ballroom.

The floors were laden with marble, and the tiles entertained themselves with white and black. The columns had tiny vines cascading down its facades, with skillfully painted blossoms near the roots. The red curtains, adorned with brown and gold, were strung to the sides, revealing large, gothic windows that gave way to city lights. Even from here, she could see the activity, good and bad, that went on from Tokyo. It was all so much more dreamlike than that old, abandoned building.

But in the middle of the ballroom was a man. He was dressed in a black hooded jacket, with a white shirt underneath. He had on tattered blue jeans with a pair of green combat boots, which snugly fit his legs. His hair was blonde, but paler, sicker, more vulnerable. His red eyes reached hers, and in that second, he nodded for her to come closer. She did.

Megumi could sense his presence grow with each step. And when she finally stopped. she saw that he wasn't anything like Aito. He was more dangerous, powerful; an ambition was what gave his lifeless corpse the ability to move, from what she could tell. Should that ambition ever fade, he would become little more than a puppet, no longer able nor willing to live out the false reality the shiki imprisoned themselves in. When red met red, she could feel his body breaking beneath the weight of her will, and from then, she could see that he was just as she predicted; a mere foot soldier.

The man held out his hand. "Pleasure. My name's Daiki."

"Megumi," she said in the same manner, reaching out and shaking his hand. When both arms went back to their prospective owners, Daiki looked up at Aito. "You can leave now."

"O-of course," Aito stumbled. Slowly, he turned away, obviously reluctant in leaving his friend with Megumi. She scoffed mentally. It's not like she was going to do anything.

When the elevator door closed behind her, Megumi decided she wanted to be the first to speak. She was about to open her mouth, but Daiki held up his hand. "Look, we aren't mad that you killed Haruma. If anything, you made our lives easier."

She blinked. "I did?"

"Well, yes. It saves us the trouble of doing anything. In fact…" She watched as Daiki dug in his pockets and fluidly pulled out a wad of bills, all of which were neatly rolled up into a single, neat bundle. "Here. As payment."

He threw the set to her, which she caught automatically. She held up the money near her eyes, and examined it. Her eyes eventually widened when she unraveled the bundle; hundreds, no, _thousands _of yen were revealed before her eyes. She felt her mouth open slightly, but closed it when she saw his devilish smile. Megumi regained control of herself, and gripped it tightly. "What's this?"

"Your reward. See, Haruma was a really bad guy. The Baroness wanted him dead, and she wanted our group to do it. Since you were in our area, that makes you apart of 'our group.' You understand, don't you?"

Megumi huffed. As much as she wanted it, she didn't like the emphasis he made on "group." The term disgusted her, so much so she tossed the wad back to him. "Not yet. There's still some things I want to ask of you. Just who is the Baroness anyways?"

Daiki paused for a moment, blinking at her question, before chuckling. "Wow, you really don't know. Aito wasn't kidding."

"Just answer the question," she demanded cooly.

"The Baroness Elizabeth is our…employer, you could say. She's real famous, especially on a global level. She hires only the best of the best to carry out the assassinations-"

Megumi crossed her arms and cocked her head. "So what does that make you? Her lapdogs?"

"No, actually. We're what you might call the messengers. What we do is that we take vampires we know who have…_serious_ potential, and mold them into the Baroness's liking. If they've proven themselves more than enough times, they'll be shipped off to the main branch, where they'll serve under the Baroness herself."

"And…what kind of person is she?"

"Fiercely protective, over herself and her syndicate. Of course, in return, she'll ask for absolute loyalty, but in the end, it's worth it. Why? You interested?" His snarky grin was what caught Megumi off guard. She bit her lip, and clenched her fists.

It all…just seemed too good to be true. Here was a flourishing shiki community with little to no fears of being caught, and, as it seemed, human _donors _who were willing to give liters of their blood to feed the many. And at the head was this protector who helped give everyone what they wanted, as long as they behaved themselves. Not even the Kirishikis were so obliging, and she doubted the big city units were as carefree.

What was his game?

"So all I have to do is kill and you pay me? If I join your group, I can rise the ranks, right? That's what you're saying?"

"Right."

"Who are the targets?"

"Bad guys. Got a lot to do with the normal, every day murders you find in Tokyo."

"What kind of murders?"

"Dismemberments, rape, binding, strangling…every sick thing you could possibly imagine."

"No one's getting hurt?" she heard herself ask. What an odd question.

But Daiki answered anyways. "Well, if they don't stand in our way, then no."

It seems she was getting nowhere with this man. But the syndicate was still intriguing enough to make her want more. So she agreed, and received her payment.

And so began her brutal days as a serial killer.


	9. Chapter 9

Kaori sat at her seat, hunched over her desk, her eyes red, as the substitute teacher continued to call role. Dark lines marred her skin, and whenever she drifted off, she jolted herself awake, trying to at least partially listen to whatever the man had to say. Apparently, Kosei-sensei got really sick, or whatever other nonsense the whispers around her spouted. And thus so began the sad, suicide rumor of the love between a student and a teacher. It was so ridiculous it was entertaining.

"Alright, quiet down!" the man shouted. After a few more moments of squirming and talking, the class fell silent. The man was placated. "Now, your teacher's left a lot of assignments," and he stepped back, revealing the long list of worksheets due that day, "so I suggest you get to work."

There were collective groans from the class, and, albeit reluctantly, they took out their textbooks and began combing through the list, counting how many problems they had to do before Kosei-sensei would stop reading their papers altogether. It was a deft, yet surprising move, especially for the people who were usually so happy to attend. Even Kaori found the work a bit unbearable. For the past week, she'd been staying near Mr. Yuuki in the hospital while taking care of Akira on the sidelines.

But it was so strange. The situation should've resolved itself by now.

Though it was just a simple blood transfusion, for some reason, Mr. Yuuki seemed to be getting a lot weaker. His blood level always ranged from 2 liters to 3 liters, and even when he started to look like Natsuno did, that wasn't what Kaori was concerned about, at least not anymore. On some days he was good, on other days he was bad, but overall his mental condition worsened. He kept calling out for Natsuno day and night, and lately, his pleas were getting more and more frequent. Unless the nurse or Kaori was there, he would violently thrash around in bed with that look of desperation. It looked like he was running away from something, but Kaori could never tell what.

When the nurse, Mr. Hitoshi, took her out into the hall, he seemed just as confused as her. "We've never had any patients like that before. Typically, you just get in, then get out," he once said.

"Were there…any bug bites?" she asked.

Mr. Hitoshi gave Kaori a weird look, but shook his head. "We found nothing of the sort."

After that conversation, Kaori relaxed; the okiagari didn't follow them here. Neither she nor her brother had to be afraid. Just remembering the words put the girl at ease, as she continued her busywork. It was probably just a mental breakdown, due to the stress of his job and new life. Though she thought Mr. Yuuki was getting better, she wasn't a doctor; she couldn't even tell whether a person who got their legs mangled in a car crash needed surgery or not. So she trusted Mr. Yuuki in their hands and left, never looking back at the now familiar hospital.

She heard snickering behind her back, but chose to ignore it. The rapid scratches of her pencil alleviated her mind from all the insults, and even when Yuki inputed her suggestions for killing Kaori, the young lady still held to her dignity. Kaori couldn't afford to be distracted, not when this was all happening. If the school, or the teachers, or even Kaori herself, reported the bullying, Mr. Yuuki would worry about her, and his condition would deteriorate. So she gripped her pencil tightly and continued on, not bothering to answer the offensive questions slung to her face.

_"__Slut," _Yuki whispered suddenly. Her voice was loud enough, so that everyone, even the substitute, could hear. He turned around, and narrowed his eyes. Kaori made no eye contact with him, so he went back to whatever he was doing, not bothered the least.

Kaori felt Yuki's fingers wrap around the strands of her ponytails, and yanked it forcefully. She fought down a yelp. "You know Kaori," Yuki said, her icy breath trickling down her neck, making Kaori shiver. She hated those memories. "People are saying you've slept with Kosei-sensei. Well? Did you?"

Kaori never answered.

Yuki giggled maniacally. "That's odd, considering you have no sex appeal. What'd you do it for? An A? Extra credit? You get a perfect score if you had his kids?"

The quiet laughter erupted from the entire room. Again, the substitute looked up and gazed at Kaori's face. There was no reaction; she just looks irritated. Probably because the class got so loud. So he shrugged and went back to his magazine, already engrossed by an old American ad. His fingers idly flipped from page to page, and thus, effectively isolated him from the rowdy class. Since they were only a few feet away, it took some time for him to adjust.

Meanwhile, Kaori had finally finished one page. She placed it in the folds of her textbook, and bent down to get another sheet. Yuki yanked her hair back again, and Kaori flinched at the pain. "You _whore," _she said vehemently. "While everyone else works so hard, you just take the easy way out. What was it like? Was he good? Did you cry?"

Automatically, the laughter grew, and the teasing escalated. Words kept flinging across the room, and with deadly accuracy, as they planted their ugly selves in front of Kaori. Her eyes were carefully kept at the text, and she pulled against Yuki's grip. Paper. She needed paper.

"You're disgusting."

"Slut."

"Who's bitch will she be next week?"

"She's got good legs."

A ring jolted Kaori from her concentration. Everyone fell quiet, as for the first time, they stared at the substitute, who groaned and stood up. He turned around, reached out, and grabbed the phone, all the while wringing his hands annoyingly around the cord. He looked like he was ready to strangle someone. "Hello?" he asked in an aggravated tone.

Slowly, his brutal demeanor softened, until at last, he looked like a victim of shock. He gestured for Kaori to come over. Kaori slapped Yuki's hands away and stood. She walked toward the desk, with her classmates shaking their heads. "Probably from Kosei-sensei," they all said, and they resumed their work, never minding the lies that filled their tiny brains.

She stopped and took the phone. "Hello?" the voice said.

"Ms. Kankoshi," she said evenly, before realizing how tense she sounded. She still needed to learn how to react to conflicts like that. "How'd you-?"

"No time for that," the kind nurse urgently remarked. She, along with Mr. Hitoshi, helped Mr. Yuuki whenever he was comatose, so usually, her job was very relaxing. It only took Kaori an instant to realize something was very, very wrong. She gripped the phone cord as Ms. Kankoshi continued. "Sweetheart, I need you to listen. I need you to come right here, right now."

"B-but I'm at school-"

"Mr. Yuuki needs you," she begged. "He's kept asking for you all day. Well, you and a boy named Akira."

It was just the excuse Kaori needed to get away from the monsters around her.

* * *

Megumi positioned herself on the outskirts of the Aokigahara Forest, near the foot of what she believed to be Mt. Fuji. The tall, imposing mountains both intimidated and awed her, as she took in the vibrant rock formations of the scenery. The forest which surrounded the swarming mountains held vast to their twisted trees, their lovely, ancient branches. The pristine calm of the area tenderly reached out to her like an old friend, beckoning her to come closer into the darkness. And it was through this calm she was reminded of that old, European castle in Sotoba, from where her fairytale dreams ended.

The vines delicately wrapped themselves around the trunks, the leaves, anything they could get their greedy hands on, as Megumi strolled through the entrance. She smirked playfully when she saw them; they were like children. They neither knew control nor wanted it; the world, in their eyes, was theirs to conquer. She tenderly stroked the vine, never once seeing the shadows of the moon cast its lingering nightmares within the atmosphere. She was content enough as it is; there was no need to introduce anymore sorrow.

She perfectly knew full well the stories of the Aokigahara Forest.

She sighed and straightened, as she continued to walk. The "Suicide Forest" was what everyone in Japan called it. This place, from what she heard, was one of the world's most popular places to die. A bit morbid, but oh well; it made the job easier.

In the confines of the forest was a shiki named Tsutomu Miyazaki, an apparent threat to the Baroness. At first, when Aito approached Megumi about the task, she found herself reluctant to even take the job. "A hermit is threatening you? Is the Baroness really that big?"

Expectedly, Aito defended the Baroness with all his might. "Of course! This guy's been murdering our children left from right! He's even got guts to interact with humans by day! He's a dangerous man and he needs to be taken out."

Megumi narrowed her eyes and leaned against the railing of the underground tunnels. In her opinion, it was a stuffy place; there was too much smoke, everyone seemed depressed, and it reeked of sewage. The brothels were excruciatingly unsafe for someone like her, since she kept getting lustful looks everywhere she went. What's more, she kept hearing screams from all over, screams of pain and despair and desperation, but whenever she turned around, there was nothing there, all except for those ugly, smiling faces that betrayed nothing. What was she looking for in those faces anyways? Remorse? Sadness? Anger? Disgust? The sins of the inhabitants danced around her so readily, so she made a point never to go there except to accept missions.

And of course, Aito brought up how precious the tunnels were to him. They were a hearth, they were love…they were home. It was by that mood Megumi had no problem taking out Tsutomu Miyazaki. If anything, she could at least understand Aito's concerns.

So here Megumi was, shifting through the branches on the ground. Her gleaming red eyes searched behind the trees, around the bushes, anything that looked like a hiding place. Her presence stretched far away, as she searched for any demons within the sad forest. She blinked, and continued her way, making sure to hide her existence once again. Was this Miyazaki guy even here?

After some time, she stopped to rest, sitting down on the protruding branch from underground. She stared emptily at the space before her, a small ax set beside her, as she contemplated on the areas he could have gone, the places he could be hiding at. She closed her eyes then, and began thinking.

Aito said he liked going out during the day, meaning that he was jinrou. So it was very possible that he might not be here at all, since he was obviously a social creature. He prowls in the cities, from what she could understand, which was why he made Tokyo his next destination. If the guy was a nature lover, which she doubted he was, then there were plenty of other places besides the forest he could go. If he'd gone here, he would be at a disadvantage. Surely he wasn't that stupid.

But another thing worried Megumi; he liked drinking children's blood. Unlike an adult's blood, a child's blood had more vitality, more life to it. It was warmer, richer, and when a vampire drunk it, danced in their veins like a heartbeat. Since the blood was still so young, it tended to adjust in whatever body it was placed in, so vampires could go longer without having to drink. Days, months, sometimes years if the vampire drunk enough. What's more, it made them stronger; it gave them more stamina, more strength, that they could easily overpower foreign enemies.

Huh. Maybe that's why the Baroness wanted him gone.

Megumi heaved a heavy sigh and got up. There was little to no chance Miyazaki would be here. She had to go back to Tokyo and search the police files. She might be able to track him from their observations. Surely not even they would let such a dangerous person out on the streets without catching _something. _

She turned to leave when, in the far away distance, she saw something. Megumi squinted her eyes, only for them to widen again. Hurriedly she took her ax and examined the contents hanging from the trees.

Shoes. Tiny girl shoes.

Before long, she began to make out other objects that surrounded the makeshift shrine. Tiny dolls scattered everywhere, watches from nowhere hanging from the vines, and even some stuffed animals were lodged in the opening of the bark. Megumi kneeled down and stroked their furs. The boy from before appeared in her mind, and she, at last, stands and turns around. There was something here.

She hid the ax in the folds of the jacket, and before long, she feels her body moving to the sound of the rustling. She smiled lightly, relieved that her old conjectures were wrong; apparently, he was a nature lover.

She weaved her way through the trees, never stopping once to take in the demonic views of the forest. Her initial reaction was replaced by something even more devious, and at last, she finally came to a figure in the darkness. She licked her lips and readied herself to ambush him. Albeit a short assignment, the fact she was going to, at last, be done with this night was excruciatingly relieving.

Then she stopped.

The guy turned, obviously frightened out of his wits. Megumi blinked, recognition filling his features. He was the guy from the hospital. She slowly lowered her ax, and calmed her breathing. She should've left there. The pedophile jinrou never liked adults. In fact, he tended to avoid them whenever he could. Yet for some reason, she couldn't simply continue on with her work, not without conversing with the teen. So she straightened her appearance and simply stepped forward, which earned her a noticeably awkward scream.

She froze. She took a step back, and almost stumbled over. She kept shaking her head, the whites in her pupils finally showing. _Tooru, _her mind continuously screamed.

Tooru, she remembered, was close to Natsuno. He was Natsuno's best friend, and everyone loved him for it. He was outgoing, incredibly shy at times. He was what everyone would've wanted in a friend.

And she was jealous of him. He was closer to Natsuno then she was, so she turned him. She didn't allow anyone near Natsuno, and if she couldn't do that, then she failed as his girlfriend, however false it may have been at the time.

What was the use of those feelings anymore? He was dead. He was dead, and she was alive. There was no point now in going back to the past. But here it was, staring her down like some lovestruck fool. She stopped, removed all the emotion from her face, and asked him who he was.

"H-Haru," the teen said nervously. "I…I didn't think anyone else would be here." He rubbed his neck nervously, with a deep crimson setting on his face. "I…sorry."

She cocked her head. "For what?"

"I was…I was just looking for someone."

That was a lie. She could tell, even from all the way there. No one in their right minds would come to a place like this…unless it was to die. She felt the realization from her veins, and when she took a step closer, the man called Haru stepped back. A guilty face took hold, and finally, he broke down. She watched his knees wobble under him, and he collapsed in weary agony, shaking his head in a very pathetic manner. "I-I'm sorry…" he sobbed.

She bit her lip. Was it really okay for her to be doing this? Apparently it was, because she already fell to his side, and stroked his back. She scoffed mentally. What was she doing? If he was going to kill himself anyway, he might as well not be here at all.

A welcomed presence found the two at that moment. Megumi merely smiled, and turned to Haru. "Do me a favor," she said a hypnotic voice, "and sleep for a while." He obeyed.

Carefully, Megumi laid him on his back and scanned the forest for any other intruders. No, it was just him alone. He made things easier at least, to come on his own like this.

She turned around and met Tsutomu Miyazaki.

He was more grotesque than she thought him to be. His pale, wrinkled skin denoted his starving state. The veins bulged from underneath his eyes, and the whites in his eyes reflected Megumi perfectly; she could see everything, her body, the pristine condition of her clothes. The rags hung from his body like stragglers hanging for dear life from beyond the road, and his nails were freakishly long, curled in an unholy way with yellow and red beneath the surface. Around his neck was a trinket, one she recognized to be a makeshift cereal necklace with a bunch of glittery strung all over it. There was fresh blood on Miyazaki. He'd just killed.

It didn't take Megumi long. She only had to take a step and chop of the man's head for the deed to be done. She didn't like the way he stared at her, or Haru, for that matter.

* * *

Author's Note;

Hello. I am the Seelie Court Jester, and I hope you all are enjoying _Purgatoriu. _

As you may or may not know, the title is Romanian for "Purgatory." I figured it would be an appropriate title, since it seems Megumi is wandering in this place in the majority of the story.

The Aokigahara Forest is in fact a real place. Next to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, it is among the world's most popular places for suicide. Suicide survivors commonly reported that whenever they wanted to die, they felt something drawing them to the forest, perhaps the malevolent, lonely spirits everyone had been talking about. In ancient times, in order to survive, people left their elders there to die, so that could possibly be one of the reasons why the suicide victims felt such a call.

Tsutomu Miyazaki was also a real person. He was called "Dracula" and "The Otaku Killer" on many occasions. He murdered tiny children, and was an extraordinary pedophile. When he was young, he once ate his grandfather's ashes, since he cared for the old man so greatly.

Ironic, huh?


	10. Chapter 10

Natsuno found himself wandering Tokyo's streets without the slightest worry, as he strolled from one store to another, staring at the faces of all the countless visitors that passed by. His eyes kept scanning the crowds, their familiar concerns bombarding him with past longings, all trivial but important. The day's light made the expressions all the more revealing; sometimes, they were crying, either from a test or a fight or their lover dumping them for someone else, while other times, they were stressful, accompanied by the worsening sleep deprivation and lingering depression. And even still, there were always some unreadable emotions he could never pinpoint, so it was like a puzzle to Natsuno. He would always scrutinize them, those people; he didn't remember having to deal with those issues. Maybe he was just so absorbed in his studies he never noticed-

He felt a bump behind his back. "Sorry," the stranger mumbled. Natsuno never saw his face, but simply nodded at the human, and returned to his somber business. He rested back against his little corner, a black hood replacing the yellow jacket he grew so fond of, along with gray, carefully torn jeans that displayed his pale skin. A dark, sapphire undershirt took refuge on his chest, so much so he grew a bit self-conscious; all day girls were gazing at him with those sickening, adoring faces. Why did _he _have to attract all the weirdoes? It's not like he asked for their attention.

Daiki asked him to stay in this area for a few days, possibly due to the growing influence of the various syndicates. Natsuno knew who the protection was for, so he never bothered questioning Daiki. And why would he? Everyone seemed happy with the arrangements; no one was getting hurt, and compromises between the shiki and humans were going smoothly, even if one side never knew of the other's existence.

Again, another bump. Natsuno looked up irritatingly. "Hey-" He never got to finish his sentence.

But what escaped from his lips was the single name of his best friend.

He was so shocked, his mind in complete confusion. His arm, however, proved more than useful, as it shot out and grabbed the man's wrist, his pupils getting a better look at the human. The teen, Natsuno believed, flushed and looked down, all the while unsuccessfully endeavoring to pry his hand away from the jinrou's grip.

Natsuno never noticed the struggle. All he could understand was the recollections of that moment, the one that tainted whatever ignorance he had left. How Megumi entered the bedroom. How she ended up taking all of Tooru's blood, though Natsuno kept reassuring himself that it was but a mere nightmare. How she turned him into one of them.

How he cried when the black surrounded Natsuno.

"Tooru," he cried softly, his throat constricting to hold back the bile. His grip grew tighter, to the point where the boy hissed. "U-um," the boy stuttered, could you please let go?"

"What?" The boy gestured down, and immediately, Natsuno drew his arm back, revealing a dark bracelet of purple and red on his wrist. He hung his hand in the folds of his jacket, and gave the teen an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to," he mumbled.

"T-that's fine. I'm sorry I bumped into you."

"It's alright." Natsuno took in the boy's appearance, surveying his bare skin for any sign of wounds, injuries, symptoms…anything that denoted his vulnerabilities. Nothing. His white, plaid shirt was covered with a grey sweater, and his brown pants dangled with pins and buttons. Natsuno even saw a little red ribbon strung to his belt. In his other hand, he balanced a small cup of water and two muffins, blueberry Natsuno imagined. Still, he cocked his head. "What are you eating?"

"L-lunch," the human answered.

"May I join you?"

"S-sure." With one fluid motion, Natsuno picked himself up from his corner and walked toward the nearest cafe table. No one dared kick out the lounging guest; he's been here enough times to warrant some control, especially when he was always in the company of threatening men. But Natsuno knew the staff's thoughts well enough to compliment them day by day, and imitate his stalker's disgusting version of "the perfect boyfriend." His efforts paid off eventually.

The two sat across from one another, and took in the scenes around them, one from within, the other without. After a couple more minutes of silence, Natsuno finally spoke. "What's your name?"

"H-Haru…"

"Speak up," Natsuno said, annoyance touching the slightest traces of his voice. The boy, fortunately, heard this warning. "Haru," he repeated.

"Well Haru," Natsuno began, placing his hand under his cheek, "where exactly are you coming from?"

"W-what?" Haru sputtered, forcing the water out onto his uniform. Natsuno raised his eyes, causing Haru to look away. "I-I'm not skipping, if that's what you mean."

"I never said anything about school."

"I…I never asked for your opinion anyway," Haru replied stubbornly, and started voraciously devouring the tiny, poor pastries. Natsuno stiffened, and turned his attention to the window before him, which reflected his own disappointment. This kid wasn't at all like the friend he knew. He might even be more recluse and withdrawn than Natsuno was.

So there he was, just sitting there while Haru basically breathed in his lunch.

Natsuno would have let the kid go. He had more important matters to take care of anyways, and by that hour, he should have gone to the Bethlehem Hospital to see if everything was alright; there've been numerous complaints about an idiotic nurse who was poisoning the blood supply. Then his own amethyst eyes slid over to Haru's neck, and they grew vast in horrific astonishment when they saw a slightly faded rope burn around his neck. Haru tensed when he felt Natsuno's eyes, and glared. "What?"

Natsuno fingered his own throat, which prompted the boy to feel the scars around his muscles. And suddenly, all the malice went away. What replaced it was a pathetic grin which screamed, _I want to die. _"Accident. I was running, and I fell, and this belt-"

"Looks too small for a belt." Natsuno narrowed his eyes when Haru began playing with his fingers. "I-I…you know how those things are…too many sizes…"

"Haru."

Haru met Natsuno's look with cravenness. Natsuno might as well have pointed a gun right to the boy's face; he looked like he was ready to run. His hands were gripping his knees tightly, and though his mouth kept making incoherent sounds, probably trying to come up with a more acceptable excuse, Haru hung his head shamefully. Gradually, he gave up. "S-sorry…yeah, it is what it looks like."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Life, I guess? You know how it is."

"Apparently I don't." Natsuno folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, his hair falling over his eyes. The situation suddenly seemed all too familiar to him. He had the same look Tooru had that night. "What happened?"

Haru laughed emptily. "A lot of shit, I guess. Parents fighting, the yakuza, drugs, police coming over every night. You know…those kinds of things…"

Natsuno shrugged. "Must be hard."

"It is." Haru shoved the rest of the muffin down his throat. After nearly choking on water and bread, the boy sat back and relaxed, with all pretenses of going back to school neither existent nor desirable. "You have no idea how badly things have turned out for me."

"So instead of helping out, you decided on dying."

Haru displayed that hopeless simper, emphasizing his lonely misery. "When you're already at that point, nothing really matters." he said, his corneas beginning to reflect the things around him, things that more than likely he would never touch. "You don't think about anything. You just think about pain, and getting away from that pain. I mean, no one's watching either, so no one's telling you _not _to do it-"

"But it still isn't right."

"What'd you know?" Haru spat, clutching the plastic cup with such power. His blue veins dilated, and without warning, his piercing eyes flared, an illustration that portrayed a more demonic desire, one that wanted to rid the world of all its experiences, good or bad, right or wrong. What good were they, when they could neither help you nor comfort you in times of distress, in moments of need? Where were his friends, his family, acquaintances that supposedly promised their eternity to him? What of his lover? His teachers? His classmates, or even people who'd given him the mercy of giving him a passing glance, to prove he wasn't invisible? "You were never there."

"No," Natsuno said coldly. "But I did have a friend like you. You two could be twins, for all I know." He chuckled at the role reversal, and as expected Haru never understood. Slowly, the boy shook his head. "Really?" he asked dubiously. "You know someone inside the yakuza with drugs and murders and-"

"I did," the jinrou cut in. "He died because of it."

"O-oh."

The quiet happily lapsed between the two, torn between guilt and regret. The memories that Natsuno repressed surged forth in their overbearing onus. The words fixated on him, even when he was no longer running from the vampire. _At first, everyone is disgusted. Afraid to bear the sin of killing people. Afraid to receive punishment for replenishing themselves with the life of another._ Tooru had told him, the tears spilling down his face. _But, once you realize that you won't be punished for killing people, you get used to the guilt pretty soon. The guilt of using humans for food. Aren't humans the same? _Natsuno wrung his hands at the truth inside his voice, but flung that promise aside. Daiki never did that; unlike Tooru, he found another way, a way that helped humans and vampires coexist with one another. It isn't impossible.

And it was that reality Natsuno clung to so desperately.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "You feel like you're mad at the world. You feel like everyone's turned against you, that it's just you against everyone else." When Haru opened his mouth, Natsuno cut him down with a piercing, metallic stare. "Let me guess. No one understands you, right?"

"I-it feels that way…"

"Then go somewhere else," the shiki concluded. "Why waste your time in that hell hole when you know the grass is greener on the other side? Sorry, but it just doesn't seem like your time yet-"

Natsuno stopped when he saw the boy's shoulders shaking,and inwardly groaned. What was his excuse now? He couldn't grasp why Haru spent so much effort fighting him, even when he knew he was backed to a corner. Natsuno leaned forward. "Haru-"

"It's complicated!" Haru said at last, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "I had to transfer schools because of them! Everyone got hurt because of me; physically, mentally, emotionally…! I bring trouble everywhere I go, and even my family is starting to realize that! My parents keep telling me that it'd be better if I just died-"

"So like a good little boy, you'll do what they say?" Natsuno questioned, which made Haru look away in guilt. "What the hell kind of reasoning is that? Are you saying you _don't _want to live?"

"N-no!" the boy stated rapidly. "I-I do! But…but I just haven't figured out how to yet."

"Easy," Natsuno concluded. He placed his left hand on his chest, and imitated a breathing, moving heart, one that had yet to succumb to any fatal poison. The blood hadn't gone cold yet, was what he decided to imagine. "You've got air in your lungs, don't you? So you're living."

"How does that-?"

"It just does," he snapped. "Having that breath in your body means you aren't dead yet. You're taking up space, you're stealing oxygen from everyone else, you're feeding like a parasite just waiting to get thrown out. But you aren't dead yet. And if you want to die, then you're even worse than a parasite; you're an idiot who couldn't find the beauty in that chaos. You're just another naive kid who refused to know the difference between life and death. It's that simple."

"I…"

Natsuno shrugged, and stood from his seat. The sun was still high in the clouds, waiting for the chance to steal a glimpse at that ignorant child. The shadows that formed during the morning were disappearing all too fast, vanishing without a trace, like the suicides Haru strived towards. "You're making things more complicated than it has to be. But if you leave the way you are now, do you really believe you can get away from all this sadness?"

"Then where else can I go?" Haru asked depressingly.

Natsuno smirked, catching sight of the towering digital clock near the entrance of a store. He's already spent too much time here; anymore and he wouldn't be able to finish the day. "I don't know. But from what you're telling me, shouldn't _anywhere _be better than home?"

* * *

Kaori and Akira held Mr. Yuuki's hand steadily, trying to stabilize the tremors that violently convulsed throughout his body. Beads of sweat decorated Kaori's face, while Akira looked like he was going to pass out any moment. Mr. Hitoshi was busily preparing another tranquilizer, while Ms. Kankoshi was holding Mr. Yuuki down by his feet. Comforting words with absolutely no meaning kept pouring from her lips, and through her calm demeanor, Kaori thought of doing the same. However, when she leaned forward, Mr. Yuuki stopped.

The red flush on his cheeks quickly ebbed away, and the thrashing halted. His white hair was spewed all over the pillows, and the veins in his neck appeared to be bulging, as if desperately trying to escape from his already weakened body. His mouth stopped stammering, and his lips slowly eased into a tight, yet relaxed grin. Incoherent words bubbled up from his throat. Finally, everyone let go.

Kaori breathed a heavy sigh, as she stood apart from her once strong guardian. What happened that night? was all she could ask. What could have possibly made such a loving, caring father, reduce to little more than an immovable _object, _always staring out into space, whispering another stranger's name every day, with no recognizable pattern afoot? There he was, all alone in that madness, but she could do nothing to drag him out.

Kaori felt so…_useless. _What exactly had changed from her time in Sotoba? If anything, she was still that weak, fragile girl whom became Megumi's little plaything. Everything burned around her, corpses fell before her, but all she could do was sit there and worry. Even now, she could feel herself trembling, not for Mr. Yuuki's sake, but for her own. She really was a coward, wasn't she? If anyone were to see her like this…

Akira's hand suddenly came over hers protectively. His determined gaze deconstructed hers and nodded. She squeezed his fingers, and jumped a bit, but only slightly. Since when did he grow? She always remembered him to be smaller than she was, skinnier, tinier. Without thinking, she forced hers away, leaving his fingers hovering there, holding nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Mr. Hitoshi settled back against the wall. "Damn," Kaori heard him say. "Where are all the doctors? This is the fifth time this week he's been like this."

"An extreme form of psychosis probably," Ms. Kankoshi murmured. "But I fail to see what the recent hemorrhages have anything to do with it."

So Mr. Yuuki's been bleeding all this time, then…Kaori clenched her fists. "You can't do anything to make him feel better?" she cried.

Mr. Hitoshi sighed. "We'll see what we can do. Right now, I think we should all give him some room."

"But what if he-?"

"Ms. Tanaka, it will be alright," Ms. Kankoshi stated. She took one step forth and pulled the covers up to the ailing man's chin. Her eyes carefully scanned his now returning wrinkles for any thing at all. She cursed before standing up. "I will be with him for the night. I'd rather not see you here afterwards. I'm afraid you might cause even more damage. Besides, you must be tired, after all that waiting."

Kaori began shaking her head, and was about to remind the nurse that Mr. Yuuki had been calling for them all day, but Akira interrupted. "Thank you," he said, brushing aside Kaori's glare. "My sister and I will be going now."

"W-wait…!" Kaori objected. "I'm not tired! I can stay here for as long as I have to. You know, just until he-"

"Kaori." Ms. Kankoshi said again, this time with more force. Her voice sounded as though it was on the verge of tears, and though it peaked Kaori's interest, she chose not to dwell on it. Everyone's eyes bore at the nurse's back, and ten long seconds which refused to leave the pendulum's movements behind wrapped around Kaori's throat like an okiagari ready to strike. At last, she consented, and allowed her brother to drag her out of the room. She caught sight of Mr. Hitoshi's confused face, even as the door slammed shut behind them.

Kaori ignored everything Akira said on the way home. She could only wrap herself with her own scrawny arms as the hot summer air blew past her cheek, with a cool touch of fall wrapped in its tender, yet forceful embrace. The people were busily passing by, with Tokyo's streets crowded and vile as ever. The pavement hit her heels with a stinging pain she never bothered paying attention to, and the marketing screams bounced off her eardrums like an unpleasant noise. The atmosphere was frugal, not even considering the slightest possibility that Kaori might've broken down on the way home.

She'd already lost her refuge.


	11. Chapter 11

The dimly lit skies from across the room left a nostalgic, quiet illumination, one which concealed Megumi's silent silhouette. Her bright, feral eyes scanned the documents with frightening accuracy, while her hands pushed away the other papers in a slightly disorganized mess. A black, skin-tight sweater outlined her frame, and her miniskirt allowed her ghostly blanched legs to provide a more reliable source of light. Her ponytails were down, the pink silk endeavoring to hide the small of her back through the curtain. She flicked her tongue and threw the document away, before digging through more of the files the police had so very willingly given her.

It'd been three weeks since she'd come to work for the Baroness. Though her experience was brief, Megumi was already making a name for herself. According to the various syndicates, she's known for her cleanly decapitated, dry corpses, as well as the sickly, sweet perfume she always leaves on the scenes. There were even rumors circulating around the various groups, vampire and human alike, saying that she kept her heads on a shelf, treating them as if they were her own lovers, caressing them with all the human affection she could muster in her tiny body. Even if the prospect was entertaining, she knew that if such lies kept circulating, soon the clubs will catch wind of it too. They'll be wary of all their visitors then.

They were so boring though, so it's not like it mattered.

Still, she knew the apathy was worth it. With the extra money she'd come into, she bought more and more dresses from the various habits had gotten so repetitive that she decided to play with the fabrics, tentatively discarding the trivial designs for something more…elegant, gothic, dark. Suddenly, the designs took form in her mind, filling their lovely images in the matter of her brain; sometimes, she even caught herself shaping the next dress rather than doing her job. She even had a little sowing machine on the table, with some clothes placed near a some yarn.

Her eyes narrowed at one particular report. She scrutinized the words, before breaking out into a low, predatory smile. She gripped the paper with both hands and kissed it, then smothered it in her chest. She'd found him. She'd found Miyuki Ishikawa.

But of course, the police didn't believe it was Ishikawa. In fact, along the margins of the paper, there were multiple allusions to the previously "dead" serial killer. Jokes were passed from one side to the other, with an evident light-hearted tone dancing along the letters. The police weren't taking this seriously, which was always good for her. It meant she was free to do whatever she wished to the man, and she would get paid for it.

Megumi continued to read. This man had an estimated total of 103 people, but there could be more. Once again, there was another okiagari that targeted children, namely infants, 169 of the them to be exact. She rubbed her eyes wearily; this one was going to be a bitch.

Maps were scattered across the tables, along with angry red scribbles all over, ranging from the ports of Aomori to Akita, a big, prominent city that faced the coast of North Korea. Multiple blue strings were embedded between the two landmasses, lines that denoted Ishikawa's possible escape routes. Megumi was on the verge of eliminating one of the routes, since it proved more than unlikely Ishikawa would use that route. Still, his plentiful ways put her at a disadvantage. Unless she could find him and kill him before he sets sail, it'd be very difficult following him to North Korea.

She sighed and dug her fingers into her hair, recounting all the days she's slept in history and geography. Questions kept bombarding her mind with their wonderfully devastating insults. What were the currents like? The culture? The people? Would they let her in? Would they even treat her kindly? Did she know how to speak Korean?

"Ugh," Megumi groaned. She was always a naturally smart girl. She just spent so much of her effort fantasizing she never bothered to study. Dreams were better than reality, so that was where she spent the majority of her time. Though they were useless to her now, they were always a welcoming distraction, even when she was in the big city now.

She sat up and started to search again, when she heard a tiny knock on the door. She froze, then slowly turned.

Odd.

For one thing, the building was abandoned. It was never slated for demolition, and because Megumi kept a close eye on the police reports, no one really cared for it. It was safely out of the way, so everyone just forgot the structure. It was an eyesore either, so how could anyone, besides herself, know of its location.

She stood warily, careful not to make any sound, when she heard a quiet whimper outside the doors. She moaned mentally, and released her tense muscles. She went to the door and opened it, revealing a slightly scared Haru in her midst.

Haru wasn't at all like Tooru. He never longed for anyone's affections, and he never tried getting close to anyone. His sad, adorable face tugged at Megumi's pity, but that didn't make him any less annoying. After that night in the Suicide Forest, Megumi carried the heavy boy out onto the streets for him to get run over; she didn't want to have anything to do with him. Besides, he came there to die, didn't he? And it'd be troublesome if he knew her face.

Unfortunately for her, he'd woken up.

So he started pathetically spouting out all the troubles he's had with his family. Since Megumi didn't feel like going back to Daiki, she listened to the emotions he's had to cope with, from his parents wanting him dead to the entirety of his school coming after him for something he never did. It was so different from how she lived her human life. Unlike him, she had everything to live for.

Then she was taken away by the Kirishikis.

Well, be careful what you wish for, right? Wasn't that the lesson?

She shared this lesson with Haru. She didn't know what prompted the boy to ask for more; maybe because of the severity of the situation at the time? Because of how thoughtful she seemed? Megumi could go on guessing, but that wouldn't really do much good. She was already caught, and she didn't want to have anymore blood on her hands. She was a mess, and she didn't want to make it worse, so she humored him.

She revealed to him vague details about her own life, how her asylum of a village had burned to the ground, how she was able to escape. Of course, she didn't suggest he go and start a fire, but at least he should figure out how to leave his troubles behind, to pursue what he wanted to pursue and leave the past behind.

She wanted Haru to believe she was joking.

So here he was, wringing his hands together with his bag slung underneath his arm. The sweaty scent diffused throughout the room, which conflicted with Megumi's own perfume, irritating her to no end. Why she told him where she lived, she had no idea. Perhaps it was the pity she felt that day, or empathy, whichever word Haru inserted in the blank.

"U-um…" he stammered. "C-can I…?"

"Come in," she breathed, opening the door a bit wider. He bowed low and briskly walked in, wasting no time taking in the beauty of the now cluttered room. He stood in that same spot for a few moments, then he went and sat down near the table. As Megumi shut the door, she caught sight Haru touching the papers. She quickly swept forth and grabbed his wrist. "Don't," she warned. "I've been up all day sorting through that stupid pile."

"Do you…need this pile?" he asked uncertainly. Her pupils followed his, and at last, she let go, an apologetic mood taking over. "Guess not," she mumbled. "You can just throw that away." Good thing she made copies.

Haru's face brightened at her warmth, and immediately began taking out school assignments. Megumi plopped herself across from him and continued working, her focus returning for the hour.

The activity had been their ritual, ever since that night. He would come and do some work, and she would simply sit across from him and do her own thing. Though neither spoke much, the time was always productive. It was also a daily occurrence; if Haru wasn't there, she'd feel a bit strange.

But he hadn't rubbed off on her yet.

When she asked Haru what time it was, he said eleven. She stopped and looked up, her eyebrows raised. "Shouldn't you be going by now?"

Haru shrugged. "I mean…I guess…"

Megumi detected a sorrowful edge in his voice, and scratched her head. She forgot; he never liked going home. The abuse was always waiting for him, and by the time he made it the bedroom, his face was plastered with tears. Some of the insults the employees flung at him were vulgar, idiotic…It was an environment Megumi didn't want to live in. So she offered refuge for the poor creature; amazing, what one little radical act could do for a human.

Of course, it meant Megumi had to buy more for her unexpected guest. In fact, Haru had a big, black, fluffy blanket all to himself, and the pillows near the windows gave him a nice, cozy bed. Though she never paid for food, she always had some money ready for snacks, in the event lunch proved too unbearable for Haru (the students had been bullying him).

"Are you staying over again?" she asked finally. It had just occurred to her that there were many more smaller cases to handle tonight, other than Ishikawa. She'd been wanting some linen and silk for the past days now. "Your stuff is over there."

"Th-thank you," Haru said. "Sorry that I keep doing this…"

She smirked gently. "It's fine. I'll be going out soon. Don't let anyone in. Keep the curtains closed," she reminded.

"I will. Hey, are you working on another dress?"

"It's not like you could wear it," she muttered begrudgingly, though the boy never heard her. Afterwards, she put on her heels and walked out of the room. She locked the door behind her and went about her way, the Ishikawa incident returning rather fast to her mind.

* * *

Kaori was in the courtyards again, the little bento on her lap. When she opened it, the contents flowed with rice and meat that was amateurishly decorated along the sides of the box. Compared to Mr. Yuuki, her cooking was horrifying, but she could manage this at least. Akira was probably gulping this down, trying to appease his turbulent sister. Such a good little brother; if he hadn't disobeyed her that day, who knows what could have happened to .

So she swallowed her pride and began eating.

The teasing had gotten immensely painful. Yuki had been clawing at Kaori's wounds, pushing her further into depression. Although Kaori never showed it, the girl knew her heart was breaking slowly, surely, decaying into nothing more than a tiny pile of ashes. She would always blink away the tears, but even that practice was becoming more and more outdated. At one point, Yuki pointed out to the majority of the school, "That slut is crying! The bitch actually has the nerve to cry!"

And thus, that was her nickname. _Bitch._

Her partner-in-crime, Ken, was slowly fading to the background, however. All he did was stand and watch, his cruel eyes taking in her agony. Nothing was reflected in those black, endless holes, but somehow, they still managed to take her apart, giving way to little more than an undeserving sentence toward the helpless victim. Just him looking at her was enough to make Kaori shudder. What was he planning? What were Yuki and Ken planning together? Was this game going to be as bad as the last game? she wondered.

_Bad as the last game, _she chuckled emptily at the lonely statement. Only a month after moving here, she was already reduced to this. She might as well have carried Natsuno's same ambitions and leave the city. Mr. Yuuki, and even Akira could stay here, but Kaori was having no more of this nonsense.

Slowly, as she chewed her rice, she felt the hot tears pour from her cheek. Kaori refused to make a sound. If she did, they were going to know. She was even facing away from the classroom, and if they saw her trembling, then her illusion would crumble. They would all know what they said affected her, and thus, they would make her the newest chew toy. Yuki would get a kick out of that, for sure.

Kaori didn't hear the footsteps coming behind her. She only kept her face down, trying to make it seem like she was only deep in thought. It was only when she felt a slight pressure on her head did she jolt. She didn't want to turn; the horror went through her mind. Had they seen her? Had those little monsters seen her cry?

At that moment, she couldn't recall a more depressing time of when she wanted to return to Sotoba.

But the person behind her never did anything. Slowly, she became familiar with the sensation, and wrapped her little fingers around the soda can. A soda. That was all that was. What? Was it poisoned? Did they do something to it?

Kaori was about to shove it away when the surface of the can came to her forehead. She blinked, her skin savoring the icy sensation. Her eyes peered around the gardens, the redness fading away fast. Besides that person, there was no one there. So she accepted the drink, and left it there, on her lap.

She felt a hand on her head, slowly patting her hair, though it was sticky due to the humidity. The fingers felt gentle, as did the touch. She allowed herself to close her eyes, if only for a moment. They were kind, compassionate, as if trying to tell her everything was going to be alright. Eventually, they had to leave. It took Kaori some time to muster the courage to finally turn around, to see that person.

No one was there.


	12. Chapter 12

Natsuno arrived at the Bethlehem Hospital, the familiar white greeting him with in its welcoming cleanliness. The front desk had a tiny spider lily lying in a pot, and the tall spiraling stairwell ascended chaotically toward the sunlight, with little drawings dotting the empty walls every now and then. Its consistent pathways made his eyes follow the stone for a while, before he went on with his business. The waiting room was painted a golden, nostalgic color that made the light from the oculus decorate it with a kind of sorrowful tone. The shadows overbearing the hidden rooms cast an ominous tone, something that would've had Natsuno believe the hospital was abandoned had not the secretary cast an empty smile.

The secretary was a plump old woman with pink hospital scrubs. Her wrinkled hands had a few scars of them, perhaps age old scabs she grew tired of picking at. The teddy bear laying near her reflected her careless attitude and ongoing misery, and the brilliance of the hospital contrasted very sharply with the way she held herself. The red rim of her glasses gave her a demonic look, an appearance Natsuno wasn't particularly fond of. She looked up in a forced yet idle curiosity. "Can I help you sir?"

"I'm here to see someone ma'am."

She narrowed her eyes. Carefully, she slid a paper across the desk to him and returned to whatever she was doing before. "Just fill that out." He did as he was told.

"Natsuno?" the nurse asked when he handed her the paper. Automatically, her demeanor changed. "Good, strong name. Here." She gave him a sticker, with a sudden warmness the shiki found strange. There was a weird scent coming off from her clothes, an aroma that denoted a hint of blood and sugar; did Daiki tell her he was coming? He put the sticker on his chest. He didn't need to know all those finite details. "Thank you," he said.

She never responded back.

He sighed and went on his way. His footsteps echoed from the recluse walls. He closed his eyes and brushed aside the loud sounds, and began concentrating on the recognizable, human complaints within each room. Someone was about to get a vaccine shot, another was getting prescription medications; he never really liked those. The nurses were cleaning a few rooms, while others were moving patients to the ICU. Ah, anesthesia; the person just got run over, judging from all the blood spilling over the table…how quaint.

As he walked from corridor to corridor, his eyes searching from beyond the walls, Natsuno recalled the trouble Daiki had laid bear in front of him, his urgent tone ingrained in his brain.

"Someone's sabotaging the human blood supply," he explained softly, as a group of young children passed the two. "From the looks of things, the culprit's an old acquaintance of ours."

"You knew him?"

"Before the tunnels, he was a nice guy. We used lived together, but when the Baroness showed her face, he was always at odds with her. So he left. The guy's never been willing to compromise, and everyone missed him, so we've been giving him more and more chances to come live with us."

"Then why bother?" Natsuno asked. Considering the man's apparent strong will, it more or less was a waste of effort.

But Daiki shook his head. "Because he was once a good man, and we all want to believe that." He chuckled emptily. "But you're right; it really was a waste of effort." The regret took form so quickly. Natsuno only had to look down to see Daiki's fists clenched, the anger present in his disposition. "People wanted him back, but he treats them like crap. That's why I want you to take care of him."

Natsuno blinked. "What?"

"That way, we can tell people he just went missing. They won't have to know he wanted them dead."

Natsuno raised his eyes. "Hold on. Did you at least try and explain the situation to this guy?"

Daiki, to Natsuno's dismay, nodded. "Many times, in fact. But whenever we did, he'd always either attack us, or threaten everyone else here. As you can see, he's become nothing more than a nuisance. Which is why," Daiki put both hands on Natsuno's shoulders, "since you can go out during the day, I'm asking you if you could put an end to all of this. He's attacked the tunnels more times than I can count. He's killing more and more innocent people, and it's only a matter of time before he goes off the deep end."

The desperate sounding plea made Natsuno turn away. He could understand those feelings well. "But why now?" he said, his resistance gradually disappearing.

"I guess I still had hope he'd come back."

"What's his name?" he finally asked.

"Haruki. Haruki Hitoshi."

And it was that name Natsuno heard when he reached the third floor. His senses concentrated on that man's scent; his thoughts cleared, and with Daiki's words embedded in his mind, the man called Hitoshi became the primary target. With a subtle step, he came out of the elevator, his eyes becoming more and more alert. Natsuno didn't need any weapons for this; he could easily break Hitoshi's neck and be done with it all. Besides, it was this man who wanted to take away the peace; it was this man who wanted to do away with those civilized means, to kill the people who only wished for him to come home.

The despair was evident with each movement Natsuno made, as he closed in on Hitoshi. Why? he wanted to ask agonizingly. Why do people do that, destroy their hearths for something more fleeting? What was the point of all of that, when they knew that in the end, they would rule over nothing? It made no sense, none at all!

Finally, around the corner, he saw a man, wearing the same scrubs as the secretary from before. He was discussing something with another nurse, a woman whom Natsuno recognized easily from the tunnels.

Mrs. Kankoshi gestured him over, and immediately, he saw her weariness. The jinrou nodded, and automatically, the kind woman turned and walked away, leaving Hitoshi mid-sentence. The man looked confused, as if untouched by the guilt of the crimes he's committed, the lives he's taken. Natsuno felt the rage seething from underneath his veins boil over, the fangs protruding from the roof of his mouth, and when he silently crept behind the man, Hitoshi turned, a confused gaze present in his face.

It was then Natsuno bit his throat.

No, that was far too merciful.

The blood and bits of throat that flowed into Natsuno's body never made much of a mess; he didn't want Mrs. Kankoshi to be troubled anymore than she had to be. Besides which, Daiki had already explained the situation to her. Get Hitoshi alone, then Natsuno would kill him then and there. Any mess he made Kankoshi would clean, and if people start asking, pretend they don't know who they're talking about. Erase that idiot from the hospital records, from the government databases, from everywhere; make sure no one knows of his existence.

A perfect end for such a criminal.

* * *

The shoreline shimmered in its decadent lights, the flickering of the waters swaying in its rhythmic peace. The bright moon was slowly engulfed by the sea of clouds, which so boldly crossed over the night skies. The salty air kept attacking her nose, but though it was uncomfortable, Megumi nevertheless allowed the ocean to embed itself into her senses. Darkness surrounded the area with little mercy, yet it was very gentle, especially towards the small creatures that made their shelters underneath its wings. Howling winds eased up to a melodic halt, a dirge overtaking the entire scene as Megumi towered over the abandoned construction site, happily taking in the nice quiet. She swept her hair behind her ear, and took a deep breath, drinking in all the silence. It was such a nice change from the streets she's always wandered. How unlike her to go back to such plain times.

She wore her favorite black corset for such a special occasion, with a skull necklace that was planted on top of her red rosario beads. Combat boots reached up to her knee, and a hot pink victorian miniskirt hugged her body. The oversized tank top showed a majority of her back, with tiny but durable strings keeping the entire attire from falling apart. She held up her usual ponytails, with her favorite striped ribbons moving back and forth due to her movements.

Megumi only had to twirl to find all the junk she picked off from the ground still in its place. Two forgotten, tiny knives were hidden alongside her ribcage, and her signature ax hung loosely from her boots. The steel glistened cruelly in the moon's reflections, and its very presence gave Megumi an eerie peace, a feeling she always seemed to posses whenever she cornered her oblivious prey. She enjoyed the emotion.

"Excuse me miss," someone called from behind her. She turned, and found a beautiful young woman standing below her, gripping tightly on the rails as she endeavored to take shelter from the powerful winds. Her black, raven like hair swept across her short, graceless face, and through the powerful gleam of her thick glasses, Megumi narrowed her eyes, and focused in on her pupils.

Megumi feigned an innocent smile, and positioned herself so the kind stranger wouldn't see her weapons. The police got it wrong, apparently. "Sorry, for troubling you," Megumi muttered. "I like being up here."

"Well, sweetheart, it's dangerous. Come down." The woman gestured her over with her short, clean nails. Megumi nodded happily, and slowly, she made her way down the beams and onto the rails. Her hair flew after her when she jumped down; her weight shook the structure, which caused the lady to chide her for her recklessness. Megumi followed the frantic waving of the woman's arms, all the while maintaining her own balance.

When the shaking subsided, all malice the woman held towards Megumi disappeared, and she stared at her amusingly. "Why were you up there anyways?"

"Like I said," Megumi replied stubbornly. "Besides, you get a really good view if you're all the way up there. But never mind that." Megumi cocked her head a bit, and gave off an aura of naiveté, like any other human girl would. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just walking by here dearie," the woman explained. "I saw you all the way up here, and I got a little worried."

_Liar. _The lady wasn't that stupid, nor was she that insanely kind; she saw Megumi's killing intent, her red eyes alone shining from above. She knew that the vampire didn't belong, so she came to investigate herself. "After all, a lovely young girl like yourself shouldn't be throwing your life away."

"What makes you think it's my life I'm after?" Megumi asked, taking one small step forward. "Miyuki Ishikawa?"

Ishikawa's eyes widened a bit. There was a long pause between the two silhouettes, the time slipping between their fingers like the waters below them. Normally, Megumi's soon-to-be victims would've tried to come up with a plausible excuse, attempt to throw Megumi off, then try to kill her. Ishikawa never made any sort of desperate move; all she did was stand there, closing her cold, reflective eyes. At last, she sighed defeatedly. "How'd you know?" she demanded. "I _was_ supposed to be male, according to the police reports. I don't believe I've met you before either."

"You always killed infants, not adults," Megumi began. "You consistently stayed in one place all the time throughout the murders, and since the bodies were found at that specific location, you made it a bit more than just easy." She placed a hand on her hip, a small smirk decorating her face. "I only had to research that small, odd hospital out in the middle of nowhere to figure out who you were, where you were headed."

Ishikawa raised her eyes, with a playful tone marring the seriousness of her predicament. "What about where I was? Surely you couldn't have figured it out that fast…"

"Are you serious?" Megumi took another step forward, her heels striking the metal, prompting the serial killer to turn away. "That _hospital… _was the Bethlehem Hospital, on the outskirts of Tokyo. It's the _same _place where I first met Daiki." She folded her arms, her lips pressed in a tight line. "From what I've heard, you were one of their top midwives. You gave birth to humans, and helped others who became vampires by letting them feed off of the patients there. Isn't that right?"

"Is that why you hunted me down?" she asked pitifully. "If you're just here to interview me-"

"Daiki wanted you dead."

The very name appeared to cut Ishikawa down. Megumi saw the way she trembled, the forlorn expression when the first syllable came forth. But it only lasted a second. Ishikawa regained herself and flipped her hair haughtily. "Then you're being played. Daiki would never do such a thing."

So she's playing that game?

"I want to know why," Megumi said. "From what I heard, you kill babies from that hospital, then tell the mothers they were stillborns. After that, you smuggled them out of the hospital and smothered them in your house somewhere for your own enjoyment. With all that killing, and with a hospital full of vampires, someone should have sniffed you out. And since idiots like Daiki keep going there, I figured they would've caught you by now."

"What's your point?" Ishikawa questioned evenly.

"Why would they wait until now to start hunting you down?"

The curiosity was like a death knell, one loud enough for even the most foolish to understand what it meant. The threat hung in the air, as a chime should. The killer simply shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and brushed it away, a cacophonous sound that shouldn't have come to life. "Oh? You're questioning them?" she observed shakily. "That's grounds for purging-"

"I know." Megumi shrugged. "I just have trust issues with them, that's all. I was hoping you could help me with that."

"So, you really expect me to just…?"

"Daiki wants you gone. You know that, don't you?" Megumi sat on the railing, reveling in the coolness of the night air. Her figure blended so well in the tenebrous atmosphere, so much so she could very well disappear without another trace. She could just fall off the edge and dive into the oblivion that tempted her for so long. Was that prospect still tempting?

Unfortunately, not.

She leaned her head back, the world she viewed so hatefully already upside down. "Meanwhile," she continued, "I can't bring myself to trust the man, but there's someone who can. I know who you are, where your nest is, everything. I can have you eliminated any time I wish." She slid her feral eyes lazily toward the woman and smiled. "So unless you behave, I can just kill you right now and be done with you."

"What an insolent remark," Ishikawa stated proudly. "You really think you can-"

It was all it took for Megumi to stand, march forward, and shove the woman down to the metal. In that brief second, Megumi took out her tiny ax and placed the hem near Ishikawa's throat. A bit of crimson flowed onto the silver, a sight the okiagari became so used to. It no longer provided the tremors she loved down her spine, for the chills intwined in her bones grew so warm, a dull, dull warm that could never hope to freeze again.

"You haven't been feeding, have you?" Megumi growled. "You know, for such a powerful source, it doesn't really last long, does it?"

"What?"

"Oh." She stuck out her bottom lip. "You don't know? Though the blood of the young had not been corrupted, because of our own dirty bodies, that power doesn't last long. We're forced to feed again and again on those tiny innocents, until at last we satisfy that insatiable thirst. In some ways," she pressed harder on Ishikawa's throat, "the creature who kill those children are even more disgusting."

"Th-that's…" Ishikawa choked, so Megumi lifted the ax a bit, the black returning to her pupils. "That's not true…" the woman snarled. "That's a lie!"

"Then why aren't you fighting back?" Megumi continued. Without hesitation, she dragged her arm from the uneven metal surface and dug it into Ishikawa's abdomen, which earned Megumi a piercing scream amongst the unfolding night. Tiny specks of black began pouring forth, along with a writhing body that couldn't dare stomach the pain. It was strange; the normally wonderful scented gore was colored with something gruesome; it was an aroma that wasn't usually associated with her ideal corruption.

Megumi pushed the ax further into Ishikawa's throat, and licked the woman's neck, before spitting the blood out. She shuddered at the new taste, and begrudgingly admitted to her previous hypothesis; the blood of the newborn had no appeal. Was the lust for power so great that they would stoop to such a level?

"It tastes like dust," Megumi commented. "After a couple of days, the blood of the children becomes little more than dust, and it breaks down the body slowly." When Ishikawa opened her mouth, Megumi cut her off. "I learned that after an autopsy from Miyazaki. If you want more proof, though-"

"W-what d-do you…" Ishikawa was losing her composure, but no matter how much Megumi tried exposing Daiki, Ishikawa was still going to follow him, no matter what had happened. What a stupid woman.

Megumi sighed, and wrapped the woman's intestines from her abdomen, then ripped them out in painful frustration. Ishikawa screamed for Daiki, for Aito, for other names Megumi would never have thought of. But she wasn't interested in something as trivial as that. No. Proved too troublesome in the end.

"So you don't know either?" Megumi asked when she stood up, the ax in one hand, Ishikawa's intestines in the other. "You still think he's on your side?"

"H-he is!" Ishikawa screamed in sweet anguish. "He s-said so! The Baroness is on our side! S-she would never…!"

Megumi simply strolled toward the woman, and with one foot, crushed her skull. The muffled screams came with her weakened clawing. Too bad for her; the material was leather. Already, she was beginning to fade away, in that little coma that everyone, immortal and mortal, was destined to go toward. She was slipping away, but she clung stubbornly to her empty life, not even realizing that all her allies have left her.

"You've never met the Baroness either, I take it," Megumi whispered softly. She crouched down. "Then let me tell you a little secret. The reason I know that Daiki wants you dead is because he told me himself. He needs you gone because you're nothing more than an eyesore he wants to get rid of. You're a pain in the ass, and it's better if you just leave this place forever."

She could never forget the tears that spilled from Ishikawa's face, as the killer's struggling grew more and more intense. Megumi should have bashed her head in more, because no sooner did her throat heal did she begin denying everything Megumi told her. "N-no! Y-you're wrong! Daiki would never do that! My Daiki?! Please! It's _you! _You're the one he wants to get rid of! He hates you! He hates you! HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO ME!"

Megumi closed her eyes, and nodded. She would find no ally in this woman. Slowly she brought her ax to her side. "Are you really that stupid?" she asked again. "He hates you. He hates your ignorance. You demonic mid-wife."

Miyuki Ishikawa was the thirtieth vampire Megumi had decapitated.


	13. Chapter 13

Haru stretched his arms on the soft, comfortable sheets, his position reminiscent of a certain tomcat who had once enjoyed clawing at his leg. Rest assured, the cat was now dead, and Haru could relax a little, welcoming the fact he didn't have to wake up with blood scars all over his flesh. Though it was still summer, the sheets felt warm against his skin, and when he sat up, quite reluctantly too, he might add, he felt a cool wind on his cheek.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made sure the curtains were closed, as his host requested, though the room did brighten a bit. And in that meager light, Haru made out the scattered objects around the floor.

The sowing machine was always where it was, tucked away underneath the heaps of soft fabric he always caught Megumi staring at. A mirror was placed at the very front of the room, which reflected back his old, weary self; the frame was wrapped in black, fake vines that were entwined with tiny metal leaflets he found lying around the building. Glass shards decorated the ends, giving rise to a rainbow of colors that could only be viewed during the day. The velvet, Victorian couch had a small lump underneath the pillows and blankets, a lump Haru assumed to be Megumi. The table they usually worked at was covered with documents and photographs, along with unintelligible annotations he could never hope to make out.

Although those documents looked serious enough to make Haru wonder if his friend was in real trouble, what interested him more were the sketches hiding below them. Rough mannequin outlines, he figured, along with what appeared to be sharp stabs of pencil and color, took the forms of elegant creatures in magnificent, Gothic dresses. Skulls, bats, roses, thorns, anything associated with those depths never eluded Megumi's deigns. There were even a few daring outfits on those papers. Sometimes, the entire back would be showing, while other times, the cleavage would be emphasized with a corset, or a bow, or a really low cut. The thighs would seductively entice the viewer, all the while a see-through material would tenderly wrap along the mannequin's legs. The spider-like metals along the steel choker make it look like the model was mourning. It made the attire all the more inappropriate, since parts of the abdomen were exposed.

He never understood why Megumi loved the dark. In his opinion, the darkness was terrifying, merciless, cruel, beckoning anyone foolish enough to enter through Archeon to a deep, mysterious sleep, one he wasn't sure anyone could wake from. Although staying at her apartment helped him with these fears, he could never bring himself to become fully engaged with such an uncertainty. He shivered in its coldness, sweltered in its flames…then he chuckled softly. Megumi would practically die of laughter when he confessed to such a thing. _What joke would it be this time? _he wondered.

He stood, his aching joints oscillating through his legs. He put his arms down, and gazed at himself in the mirror. His hair was neater than before, and his attire wasn't all that bad, even though he slept in it. Sure, his tie was a bit mussed, and his shirt wrinkled, but he was still presentable. Haru always took a shower before coming here, simply because he knew Megumi never appreciated the smell he carried in during the long day. And at times, he didn't either.

Haru didn't know if the girl even wanted a roommate, but for some reason, she always made him feel welcome. She insulted him, true, and she mocked him on several occasions, but she always opened up her home to him. It didn't matter if she lived in the furthermost part of the city, or that she disappeared at night, or that she came home with the smell of iron on her clothes. He felt safe whenever she was around. He felt relaxed.

But most of all, he could see those sad, lonely eyes she had when she looked at him, like a friend who saw their beloved's ghost.

Haru never bothered pressing her about these matters. How could he, when he had yet to fix himself?

He carefully pushed his hair back, and winked at himself. He laughed at his foolish attempt, as he bent down and stuffed his now finished homework into his bag. The papers crisply protested at the force of his hand, but the scribbles he furiously scratched on distracted him from the sound, and to be honest, he wasn't particularly troubled by it. He'd gotten a lot of work done ever since he started visiting Megumi. How could he not, when there was no one shouting at him, no gun shots out the front window?

Haru turned, and was about to whisper a quiet "Later," when he suddenly remembered something. He blinked, and looked down at the sketched again.

Though they were disturbing, they were really quite good. Actually, they were better than the junk circulating in the stores right now, and there were people who had been looking for some change.

And wasn't today the deadline to enter the school's fashion show? Anyone could enter, as long as they had the talent to show for it. He's also heard about company representatives attending the show, trying to attract potential candidates. They were all searching for something different, something that could destroy whatever mundane world they were in. Megumi could easily blow everyone out of the water, and who knows? Maybe she might not even have to work so late anymore.

Plus, he needed the extra credit.

He bit his lip. Would Megumi mind if he entered in her designs? Of course, he didn't plan on taking any of the credit for himself. He just wanted to thank her for her kindness, and since he didn't have a job yet, what better way to show his gratefulness than giving her the exposure they deserved?

So he slipped a paper out of its nest and crept towards the sleeping girl. He carefully shook her. "Megumi?" he asked softly.

Nothing.

He shook her waist, a bit harder this time. "Megumi?" he said again.

A slightly annoyed, though warm, mumble came from beneath the pile of pillows.

"Y'know, your drawings are really good."

"Hmm…"

"I was wondering if I could enter them in my school's design competition. I mean, you don't have to. I-it's just my way of-"

"Hmm…" He saw a tiny, pale hand fumble its way through the sheets. Her fingers were outstretched, as if waiting for someone to hold them. They were graceful, but in the growing light, they looked sickly, weakly, threatening to break under any sort of pressure. Haru closed his eyes, and took them, not surprised by their frigid touch. She'd been out all night again.

He placed her fingertips near his lips and muttered, "So is that a yes?"

The silence persisted. He wasn't even sure she heard him, but at last, he saw a stray stand of pink peek out from the covers. Her eyes were still closed, and all he could see was her forehead, the messily arranged ribbons dangling from her bangs. "Hmm…" was all that came from her.

Haru sighed, and placed her hand under the bedsheets again. He rolled up the blankets and covered all of her body, even her hair. She once told him she had a very bad allergic reaction to the sun, and she warned him countless number of times not to let in any ray. Though he kept asking her to get some medical attention, she refused, and simply ordered him to cover her up when the day was near.

So why she allowed him to put up those glass shards around the mirror was a bit of an enigma.

"I'll take that as a yes." Haru said. He took one last look at the sheet, his eyes scanning the intricate lines, the planes, the skillful, artistic endeavors he could never hope to achieve. He removed a folder from his bag, and slipped the paper into his folder. He then surveyed the room, and made sure everything was in its messy place, before leaving.

As he made his way down the abandoned building, he took care to take in the beautiful neglect in the atmosphere. The broken glass, the rusted metal, and even the forgotten assignments, which had already been taken away by the clawing shadows, all made up the sublime moments. The quiet made the edifice tranquil, and almost turned it into an ephemeral substance that could never hope to stand against the big, bad world. It was that kind of weakness that made the boy want to stay there forever, in the past, in that long, unchanging remembrance. Haru jumped from one step to another, pushing himself from the walls to make it out to the next hallway, and before long, he was finally outside, the present shattering his pleasant illusions.

The sun had yet to rise from beyond the demonic skyscrapers known as Tokyo. He was a bit early, so he started walking leisurely to school, hands stuffed in his pockets. The thin, metal gates he unlatched marked the signs of a lonely, solemn arts district.

The shops, he realized, were all littered with paints, colors, a few materials here and there. Big and small, short and long, they all reminded Haru of a tiny, medieval village in a land of far far away. Their Italianate architecture alone made them stand out from the bland lights of the city, and the rose windows which formed the bountiful stained glasses from the outside illustrated the lovely place as a Zion. There even used to be a famous fashion studio here, from what he could tell, but for some reason, it was abandoned, left to die out on its own. All the products were still there, the dust sprinkled lightly on the once beautiful fabrics. The canvases, the paintbrushes, the sketchbooks, all of it was here, and free to use. From the looks of it, Megumi has yet to notice this.

He passed the arts district, and made his way toward civilization. The desolate streets steadily grew with people, something Haru didn't necessarily like. They all taunted him with his inevitable destination, as well as the depressing fact of his wrecked home and school life. The peaceful nights were gone, it seemed to scream; he now had to toughen up and deal with the raucous day.

The cacophonous sounds of the city followed him all the way to school, where a multitude of his peers were staring at him oddly, as if he was a monster burning in daylight. But he ignored them; he'd gotten used to their stares now. His footsteps echoed across the hallways, and though it was a trivial act, the strangeness of his presence kept everyone's eyes low. He could practically hear the gossip pouring from their lips, the rumors that kept winding around a witch hunt, Frankenstein, Dracula, a village named Sotoba. He never paused.

At last, he made it to room 228. Haru took a deep breath, and turned; no one was there. Of course not. Everyone had submitted their designs long ago. The fashionistas were all too busy babbling on and on about being chosen; they were all probably in the courtyards right now, focusing on developing their designs rather than focusing on schoolwork.

He slowly opened the door and peered around the classroom. No one. He hesitantly stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him. He took out the folder and walked up to a small, little pile labeled "Submissions", as said by a piece of ripped, worn-down tape. A sign-up sheet sat next to it, along with a pen at the top of the pile. Haru blinked, then stared at the papers, trying to distinguish between their original designs and Megumi's. By the time he was done, he only shook his head and entered Megumi's dress. He was almost ashamed to enter Megumi's outfits.

They stood no chance.

He flourished his signature below the sign-up sheet, stating he was the sponsor for this designer. And with that, he picked up his belongings and walked out of the room.

For the rest of the morning, Haru aimlessly wandered between lectures, his face never looking away from the windows. He always sat there, in that same spot, not eagerly acknowledging anyone, save for the few who bothered to come his way. Several times now, he saw a brown haired girl who would usually come out to the courtyards and eat her lunch. The ponytails were odd, but nonetheless, she looked decent.

Kaori Tanaka was her name. Haru found himself watching her from time to time, deciphering the expressions on her face, the tears caressing her cheeks, as he wondered who had bullied her this time, (with Yuki being the most likely culprit). She was famous, even among his class.

From what he was told, she came from a satanic village called Sotoba, a village that sat upon a massive pile of stakes, eerie legends, and dead bodies. A few rescue workers and volunteers went missing a month before, and for weeks, no one could find them, which, of course, led the school to believe the village was cursed. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. It wasn't any of his business anyways.

Once or twice a day, he would see a boy behind her, staring at her like she was the most fragile thing in the world. Haru recognized him easily, because the boy was usually with the students who bullied him in the past. Lately, he'd been withdrawing from those silly activities; maybe it was because of the girl?

After school, Haru decided to stop by the old cafe, his eyes scanning the crowds with their piercing accuracy. He only had to enter the front door to see the ever weird Natsuno lounging in his usual corner. Purple hair draped casually in front of his eyes, and the Victorian attire he had on from before was replaced by more inconspicuous clothing. From a distance, he looked like he was sleeping, but Haru knew better. So he purchased his muffins, poured his water, went directly to the stranger, and sat across from Natsuno.

His eyelids opened, and the two immediately started discussing practically anything that came to mind, from the mysteries of life to the notion of death to the best, most efficient way to waste time (Natsuno won those arguments). The seconds turned to minutes, the minutes turned to hours, and before long, Haru realized he had to leave again.

Recently, Haru noticed his new companion's agitation. Lines that normally would never cross Natsuno's handsome face were now marring his complexion. Like Megumi, his prominent, elegant features were accentuated in the shadows, but in the day, he looked sick, ready to collapse at any given interval. Haru decided not to question his condition, however. For some strange reason, he felt that, like Megumi, Natsuno would make fun of his concern and dismiss it altogether.

Haru now had friends, but he could never get close to any of them. The situation was altogether really annoying.


	14. Chapter 14

Kaori was struggling. At least, she knew that much. She was still trying to complete the laundry list of assignments Kosei-sensei left her class, and though it'd already been two weeks since the teacher's mysterious absence, Kaori didn't want to disappoint him, so she did everything she could to finish. She was almost finished too, and was relieved when she finished the next barrage of review question. So when the substitute called her up, she didn't minded walking to the front of the room, where everyone could see her. She didn't care whether or not Yuki kept gossiping about her, or if she was probably the bane of her peers' existence; Kaori was happy as she was, perfectly content.

Then she received word that Mr. Yuuki was in a coma.

The news came so abruptly that Kaori had no time to adjust at all. All she could do was just stand there, the confusion circling around her vulnerabilities. Slowly, her lips parted, the shock evident in her eyes, as well as in the midst of her turbulent face, as the emotions began spiraling out of control. She could pick apart every word that began bubbling from her lips, but it was her body that suffered most. Was her hand trembling? Was she trembling? Could everyone see her?

She bit her lip, and thanked Mrs. Kankoshi for the news. The woman's melodic voice sounded so depressed, saddened by his worsening condition, yet at the same time, a hidden strength embraced her tone, and in that warmth, Kaori remembered her refusal to cry. The kind nurse said firmly that she would keep Kaori and Akira updated on any improvements for Mr. Yuuki, but at the same time, she asked that the two keep away from the now elderly man. "He gets very violent when you both are near." she said carefully.

Kaori nodded slightly. "I…I understand." And with that, she hung up the phone, returned to her seat, and continued her work.

At this point, her thoughts were flurried, her pulse beating faster and faster with every second. There were no words to describe how badly Kaori wanted to run and hide, to scream in frustration at the world and everything in it. In that instance, Kaori allowed herself to drift back to her refuge, which resided somewhere in the back of her mind. She lost herself, in that one moment.

She just wanted to salvage what little of the past she had left and live there for a while, though she may never wake from such sweet dreams. She wanted to laugh with her parents again, to run through Sotoba's sweet forests, with Love panting ahead of her. She wanted to return to those years, of when she could walk freely in the day, without a care in the world, and if possible, to avoid Megumi, who brought all that devastation on her.

No matter how pointless it was, Kaori wanted it all back.

Unfortunately, time was fleeting.

As usual, she ate lunch alone. She couldn't bring herself to care about the way they all stared at her, the way they ganged up on her. But Kaori knew she was at her limit. It may only be a matter of time before things escalated to physical confrontations. She was already getting death threats in her locker, and she kept finding garbage on her seat every day. How long did Kaori have before she snapped? Was that sort of thing something she could count on her fingers? Was it something she could figure out easily with the mere strokes of a pencil?

When the bell rang, Kaori picked up her usual bento and went back to the classroom, where she found an unusual object on her chair. She couldn't help but cock her head a bit, blinking at the cleanliness of her seat. She blinked, and looked around. No, they all avoided her stares. Surely they weren't the ones who did such an act; no one would dare aid the witch of Sotoba. What caught her eye was not the absence of trash, or a newly coined insult which would haunt her through the night. No, not at all.

What she found was a single, white hydrangea, sitting patiently on her seat.

Kaori narrowed her eyes, picked up the flower, and examined it. It took all her strength not to crush the fragile thing in her fists. What gave them the right to play her like that? She wasn't their toy, nor was she entertainment! Honestly, the nerve…

But Kaori still took the flower home anyways.

* * *

Megumi shifted through the corridors of Bethlehem Hospital, brushing aside the vague greetings and niceties. Though it was too bright, she kept moving forth as she tried to sense for something, anything, that would betrayed Daiki's intentions.

She kept glancing from side to side, kept seeing the staff's pasty faces with their makeshift smiles, as they complimented her dress, her boots, her figure; as long as she was appeased, they believed, everything would be fine. The nurses and doctors flashed their red pupils toward her, as their eyes welcomed the familiar creature. Of course they would; for the short while she's been with them, Megumi has protected them from harm, pain, misery, all those unnecessary the real world needed to offer.

It truly was pathetic.

She's been going to and from the hospital for a couple of days now, and though no one bothered reporting her activities, Megumi knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught on to her suspicious behavior. It was why she spent the majority of her time researching the patients, moving back and forth from place to place, trying to paint a better picture of the person known as the Baroness. She couldn't afford to waste any efforts; she needed to be efficient.

Yet the information she gathered made her theories all the more confusing. What did Daiki gain by allowing the shiki and the humans to live side by side? If people gave them blood voluntarily, why was it necessary to open up a hospital? Surely he should've known that something as grand as that would attract attention.

He didn't strike her as a guy who cared about anyone either; in fact, though she'd only been to the tunnels a few times, a majority of the inhabitants there wanted nothing to do with the outside world. As long as they had their blood, they were willing to follow anyone, do anything.

What's more, the patient files she stole from that stupid secretary were repetitive, yet at the same time, inconsistent. The patients who died in those rooms always died of anemia. One liter left, two liters left, but all the same, they all were in critical condition. They all were given the "best" care, and they all died in that same, gruesome way. The name of the doctors who signed the death certificates were so few she memorized their handwriting easily, and soon, their signatures became monotone in Megumi's eyes, never changing, forever eternal in the presence of the damned. The doctors even refused to allow friends or families to visit the deceased, from what she's seen from the security cameras.

What made the reports inconsistent, however, was how their presumably dead bodies were strapped onto tubes and machines, and carried away into the basement.

Now, Megumi wouldn't have really bothered with any of this. She would've just stayed at home, either drawing or sowing or helping Haru with his latest art assignment. And besides which, she didn't know any of these people; anything that happened to them was of no concern to her. For all she knew, they could even be participating in some sort of "life saving research", research that would have helped improve the current healthcare system for all she knew.

Then she saw Mr. Yuuki's face among the deceased.

Old feelings returned when she caught a glimpse of his slowly ebbing sanity. His gray, spiraling hair was carefully brushed away from his cold, dead eyes, and his usually calm features were now ingrained with a maddening strain, an appearance that ingrained itself into her mind. The man was surrounded with white, and if she looked long enough, if her desperation kept her hostage, Mr. Yuuki was simply an older version of her sweet, beloved Natsuno.

And before she knew it, she was crying.

Crying for the past, crying for the days when she could have followed her crush anywhere, at any time. Crying for those days of when she thought the city was such a grand dream, a fairytale within a fairytale. Crying for trivial annoyances she had with everyone she conversed with, however bittersweet it may have tears were no use. No use at all. And it was because of Natsuno's memory that she decided to investigate further.

Megumi reviewed her suspicions, and compiled them accordingly. Miyuki was an anomaly, Ishikawa was strange, but for Mr. Yuuki to be among the dead…was far from normal.

As she swept through the hallways, Megumi kept moving through the thick atmosphere, all the while swiftly going down a personal mental list of possible reasons why Mr. Yuuki would be dead. Maybe someone from Sotoba survived, and was now exacting their revenge on the remaining survivors of Sotoba. Maybe they heard somehow that Megumi had escaped, according to the nonexistent big city units, and were now trying to get her attention. Maybe Daiki ratted her out, and was now using Mr. Yuuki to keep tabs on her.

Maybe someone from the tunnels attacked him while he was defenseless.

Her heels echoed from within the elevators. Her bright eyes surveyed the buttons on the metallic screen, and she blinked. With little hesitation, she pushed the button, and was racing toward floor thirteen.

She wasn't stupid. She'd been here enough times to know that Daiki would never allow the masses to reach such a taboo place. And because he was so cautious, she's even had to stalk him a few times to make sure she could find the basement. But those mundane obstacles were over with; another moment or so, and she can at last see what was happening to the bodies.

Because it sure wasn't as hell to turn them into shiki.

She slipped past the elevator door and wove her way around the cameras, the staff, the unfortunate patients who were probably never going to get treated. She didn't need to examine them to contemplate their predicament; doctors who would usually rush to their sides were replaced by predators, monsters who ignored them, abandoned them in favor of indulging their lusts in the ICU. While they were getting weaker, the medical staff went about their night, unaffected by the dirges surrounding them.

Finally, she came to the stairs, and made her way down from there. The fresh scent of disinfectant and chloride were useless in Megumi's eyes; she could see the tiny pools of dried blood from the darkness, the amateurishly scrubbed walls that gave way to rust and ruin. Yes, it was clean, but it was done in such a way that made her beautiful building look like a mansion. She scoffed at their attempts as she busily descended the spiral, never once looking back at the fluorescent lights of the hospital.

Megumi didn't know how long she walked. An hour, two hours maybe; after all, she wasn't really in a hurry. Although it was night, because the tunnels' insatiable lust was being dealt with as of now, no one really bothered going to the hospital. Their pleas were quieted, the children were sleeping, and with the lullabies whispering sweetly into their ears, anyone could resume their lives happily, though they was nothing more than unrealistic, mental delusions. Still, Megumi had to admit that she was grateful. Their arrogant attitudes was what allowed her to do whatever she pleased.

She came to a halt when she rounded a corner. The blue lights eerily illuminated the shadows, and in the middle of the iron entrance, she saw a door, whose handles were heavily guarded by steel and wires. She smirked; well, at least they remembered to put a lock. She bent down and squinted at the tiny device, before removing one of her bobby pins. She inserted the thing between the opening, and through her fumbling, she managed to literally pry open the lock. She made sure none of the chains made any sounds when they hit her hands.

Slowly, she stood, and crept through the tiny cracks. What greeted her was a sticky black which blanketed her figure and form. It was a type of night Megumi wasn't really used to; the humidity attacked her skin like a parasite. But she moved forward, searching for something that could confirm her suspicions. It wasn't until she was in the middle of the room did she truly see Daiki's secrets.

She regretted harboring those suspicions.

Her eyes grew wide with horror, and her hands flew up to her mouth as to keep herself from screaming. She had trouble balancing, and ended up falling to her knees. She tried to keep herself from vomiting, though tiny bits of blood escaped from her lips, a reminder of her last meal.

Cages.

They were all in cages.

Humans, all of whom were barely clinging to life, were strapped to the familiar machines Megumi saw the doctors carry down. The tubes were messily sown onto their arteries, their veins, their limbs, anything their sick, twisted needles could grab hold of. Injections protruded from all around the patients, some on their legs, others near their pelvises. Oxygen masks covered their mouths, their tiny breaths signaling Death's unwanted embrace. They were all on the floor, the scratches against the iron filled with tiny bits of finger and nail. The humans were all chained to the cages, wearing nothing but their hospital robes, and the whites in their eyes proved no less terrifying. The red in the veins appeared to make their sockets bulge, as if some unknown pressure was shoving them out.

But that wasn't all, and Megumi knew it. She eventually lowered her arms to her chest, and forced herself to see more. Her tiny body turned, absorbing all the pain of being trapped, all the nightmares that surrounded those unlucky humans.

Some of the tubes, she realized were clear. Others, however, had blood running through them. Near each patient, there was a chart and a monitor, to which the doctors have recorded their observations each day, probably determining the best human to feed to the tunnels. She guessed that they were careful not to kill anyone, else they couldn't produce the amount of blood they needed to feed the populace.

She kept staring at their cold, lifeless bodies. Though she could hear their heart beats, she shuddered at the sound, and wished, perhaps more than anything, that she could tune it all out. But a tiny voice urged her to see it all, hear it all, to document every dark corner in the feigned utopia. So she started walking tentatively, trying to ignore her quaking legs, attempting to brush off the fact that she'd become devastatingly cold.

The shiki observed each face, every single one. Some were young, no older than five or six, while others were more elderly. But every one had a little ignorance sown into their features, even if their pupils were gone. For how could they have predicted that their ends would be so…pathetic? Did anyone tell them beforehand? Could they see what was happening around them? Were they still conscious? She couldn't tell.

She passed a plethora of names; Ayame, Hikaru, a Kosei even (the man was the only one who appeared to be, at the least, _remotely _scared). She stopped when she caught sight of a certain Mr. Yuuki, dangling at the ends of life's little string.

Automatically, she gripped the cage, her fangs emerging from the roof of her mouth. Although she was strong, she couldn't break the hard metal; for that she needed something else, something more durable, stronger. Judging from the material, it seemed like she needed something spontaneous, else someone would hear her and kill her right on the spot.

Megumi closed her eyes and crouched down, both hands on the bars, as she allowed herself to fall. She needed something that would destroy everything in its path, leaving little evidence for witnesses, with no one to stand in her way. She needed an instant destruction, for both the hospital and the tunnels.

She needed fire.

Yet Megumi sensed something else in this room. She gathered her courage and stood, never letting go of Mr. Yuuki's cage.

It took her only a split second to realize she wasn't in the center of the room.

This cage wasn't like the others. It was big and grand, and it had rubies decorated around the rims. And instead of lying on the floor, this person was on a table, with fine leather straps coming around her wrists and ankles. A small, velvet curtain draped around her surroundings, and though it covered some of the silhouette, the vampire could see her beauty. But as Megumi drew closer, she began to see the white fabric that had failed to shimmer in the darkness, as well as the jewels around her neck that amounted to nothing more than dust. The woman was pale as well; she didn't have any scars or wounds like the other patients did, but Megumi knew she was possibly more comatose than anyone else here.

There was no oxygen mask. Instead, wires kept her mouth open, which revealed two long, icy fangs, both of which were on the verge of breaking. Her frosty lips intwined with an unhealthy shade of blue, which spread through her jaw. Her eyes were wide as well, but the tiny wires kept those eyes open, as if expecting them to watch over this corrupted, tainted home. Tiny tubes ran from her mouth and eyes, the black blending so well with the surroundings. Megumi let go of Mr. Yuuki's cage, and decided to take a step further, so much so it felt like she was almost touching this person.

She almost screamed.

The woman's chest was revealed.

The ribs, the bones, the heart, _everything _was there, in plain sight.

And what's more, her heart was beating.

_Jinrou, _was what her mind said robotically, but Megumi shook it away. No, she was way more than that. If she were but a simple jinrou, she would've been watching over everyone else, instead of slaving to these machines. But a vampire, whose heart was still beating…Megumi never heard of any phenomenon like that. She only had to look up to realize who this person was.

_Elizabeth_, the inscribed words said. _Our beloved Baroness._

* * *

Author's notes:

-Miyuki Ishikawa was a famous Japanese serial killer who killed a staggering 169 infants through neglect. Because she was a midwife, she could easily pick out her little targets and smother the life out of them. When she was caught, she and her husband attempted to pay reparations, claiming that the payments would actually be less than the expense of raising these "unwanted children."

-The Bethlehem Hospital in the fan fiction was inspired by the London psychiatric hospital, the Bethlehem Royal Hospital, also known as Bedlam. Although now the hospital is at the forefront of revolutionary _humane _psychiatric treatment, before, it was simply a horrific asylum. The mentally ill would be exposed to the public, where tourists would come and poke them, gawk at them, ect.; no actual treatment took place.

-Elizabeth the Baroness was also inspired from the famed female vampire, Elizabeth Bathory, a terrifying historic figure. Bathory was said to have lured young girls into her service with promises of work, then have her servants kill them and fill her bathtub with blood. It was estimated that she killed more than 60 of these girls, which effectively gave her the nickname "The Bloody Countess."

-I'm sorry, but I like writing about human nature. And because we have such a rich history of it, I don't think I'll ever run out of writing material.

I apologize for the interruption.


	15. Chapter 15

_I hated you._

Natsuno jolted awake, the words echoing throughout his mind with little effort. Their violent claws slowly eased from his brain, but the influence was so strong the pendulum seemed to keep him hostage in that fake, never ending world. His hazy vision grew clearer, while his hands gripped the covers of his futon tightly. He blinked away the weariness in his eyes, and though the adrenaline soared through his veins, Natsuno struggled to sit up. When he did, he felt something wet on his forehead, and used his sleeve to wipe away the liquid; the pipes needed fixing again.

He placed his forehead on his knees, and sighed deeply. It took some time before his body started to calm, the trembling proceeding to a slow, gradual halt. The tension in his muscles became little more than painless, a tranquilizer that might as well have tempted him back into slumber.

He couldn't even remember what his nightmare was about. What utter nonsense that was; what could possibly be so terrifying he'd be so frightened by it? He'd seen enough crap as it was; had reality simply refused to acknowledge him as an adult? Was it going by such a concept physically rather than mentally, or even emotionally? Really, Natsuno shouldn't be having these problems at all.

"Yo," a familiar voice called. Natsuno tilted his head upwards and found Aito baring down at him, his bright, friendly eyes masking a hidden, unrecognizable obsession. Natsuno regarded him suspiciously. "What?" he murmured irritatingly.

"Wow. Someone's cranky today," Aito plopped down by Natsuno's side. His pink jeans carefully contrasted to his blue shirt, and his black, painted nails were messily polished to the tip of his fingertips, with a bit of color straying to his skin. He had a worn out, green scarf wrapped around snugly his neck; just looking at it made Natsuno swelter. The dim lights made Aito look all the foreboding.

The hazy mist was beginning to clear once again. The constant incense made it hard to see; supposedly Natsuno was already used to it. However, at this hour, he wasn't willing to put up with it. And the way Aito ruined the crisp, cozy sheets of the futon was already enough to instigate the jinrou's bad mood, but to make himself at home in a clearly solitary shelter was obviously another level of agitation. Though Natsuno kept dropping subtle hints of his uncomfortable situation, Aito seemed to neither notice nor care for his signals.

"So…" Aito began, his eyes wandering all over Natsuno's dwelling. "_This _is where you're staying now? Seems kind of small…"

"No one asked for your opinion," Natsuno snapped.

Aito playfully clutched his heart and imitated falling motions. "Ah! I'm shot! How could you Koide-san? How could you?" Natsuno simply leaned back against the wall and regarded his unwelcome guest evenly.

Really, this wasn't his place to stay. The local brothels allowed him to stay in the back, coming and going as he pleased, as long as he "brought with him some pretty customers." The industrial design of the post-and-lintel structure revealed a more subtle, graceful curve, one reminiscent of the old abandoned temples in Sotoba. There were a few writings, all of which only consisted of erotic love messages from one companion to another. It never bothered Natsuno, seeing as how this place was a type of temporal residence.

But though this was the back, there were still windows which gave curious customers an inside look at the mysterious guest. The barely see-through curtains illuminated to a seductive glow within the room, allowing the female customers to catch a glimpse of the handsome boy that many would pay through the nose for, both shiki and humans alike. Since the futon was brown, people would often mistake the bed as a table, and because of that, it seems people are desperately trying to get into this room and share a drink with him.

"It's good for business," the owner said once. Natsuno didn't have any say in the matter, and since the brothels were his only option of shelter at the moment, he had to acquiesce to their demands.

"Whatever," the boy brushed aside. "What'd you want?" Aito's joking manner faded immediately. Natsuno raised his eyes and placed his hands on his lap.

It'd been five days since Hitoshi's death, five days since the murder. The body, Natsuno was told, was already cremated, and the ashes spread all over. So far, there were no questions raised, no investigation, nothing at all. He had yet to hear Daiki say anything to the masses about Hitoshi's mysterious disappearance, but as far as he could tell, no one was prodding around, looking for answers. They were all very simplistic, those people and went on with their lives, as if such a disturbance hadn't existed at all. He never found this behavior strange; even Natsuno became a bit forgetful from time to time.

"There's a rat," Aito said darkly.

"A rat?"

"It's this chick Daiki took in," he said. "See before she was a really good girl, and like you, she's helped protect the tunnels. But lately, she's been getting a bit antsy, sticking her nose in places they don't belong. The situation could boil over. Might even lead to a power struggle."

"Look Aito," Natsuno interrupted. "I'm grateful and everything, but if you want me to take her out, then-"

Aito shook his head. "It's not what you think. Daiki wants her gone, too." When he caught Natsuno's inquiring gaze, he fumbled with his pockets for a bit before pulling out a bobby pin. The cold, tiny thing pierced Natsuno's skin, its sharp iron reflecting to Natsuno Daiki's reflection, as well as his desperation. How the breakable thing can convey so many feelings was something Natsuno still failed to answer. He blinked, before poking the object. "This from the hospital?" he asked.

Aito nodded. "Yeah. We found that in a restricted part of the hospital. Since Daiki and I are the only ones who are able to access that area-"

Natsuno shrugged. "Maybe someone was lost."

"I've seen that little bobby pin on the chick though," Aito continued, ignoring his brief commentary. "And I would know her scent anywhere. Though she's been avoiding the tunnels, I've tracked her down enough times to know her smell. Who uses that type of perfume anyways? Does she _want_ to get caught or something?"

Now that he mentioned it, Natsuno did smell something sweet when he entered the room. He held it up to his nose and closed his eyes.

No, this didn't come from perfume. The girl was more than likely returning from a blood-soaked killing spree. Much to his surprise, there was no alcohol or opium embedded in its frame; instead, there was something more natural to it, something that made Natsuno think of the villagers in Sotoba. Tokyo probably wasn't apart of her feeding grounds then. But aside from that, there was nothing Natsuno could do to distinguish this "chick's" identity. He would've imagined that she would've at least left a strand of hair, or a piece of her own flesh, or some head blood.

She's killed a lot of vampires though. No mistaking that.

Natsuno warily looked up. "So you want me to kill her then? Like I said before Aito, I don't like unnecessary conflicts. Didn't you try talking with her?"

Aito flinched. "We did, but-"

"So if she's so much of a threat, then why wait? Why wait now to murder her instead of before?" Natsuno pressed, bringing the pin into the dim, candle's shimmering shadows. What a fragile thing it seemed; amidst the blurs and the distortion, this thing was the only definite object Natsuno could make out. "Did she find see something you didn't want anyone to see? What? Is it some kind of scandal?"

"Sorry," Aito said apologetically. "But that is for our eyes only. I don't want you to misunderstand; it's not bad or anything. Still, a lot of secrets will be in jeopardy if anyone finds out."

"So she's blackmailing you."

"She's blackmailing the tunnels!"

"With these _secrets_ you don't want anyone to find out?"

Aito gave him a simpering grin, an expression Natsuno wasn't particularly fond of. "Koide, everyone has secrets. You can't simply expect people to reveal them to you."

Natsuno chuckled emptily. "So you're blackmailing _me _now? What happened to the good samaritan act?"

"I'm doing what I need to to protect everyone."

"Aren't we all?" Natsuno held up his fingernails and examined them. There was a bit more dirt underneath the surface than he last remembered it. More scars too, with dry blood crusted around the edges. What those women saw in him he didn't know. "What happens if I say no? Surely you don't intend to purge me?"

"No, of course not!" Aito squealed, exaggerating his already flamboyant gestures. He even squeezed out a tear, much to Natsuno's annoyance. He couldn't tell whether or not his visitor was being serious. "You're our precious comrade, as well as our friend and brother! Why we would ever abandon you out in the middle of nowhere is beyond us!" Once his tantrum settled, Aito simply sat back and enjoyed the lustful scenery that desolated his hormones. He blew a couple of kisses to some young prostitutes it looks like, all of whom didn't even realize his flattering movements. All eyes were hungrily devouring Natsuno.

"But honestly," Aito said, as he disappointedly stared back at Natsuno, "you don't have anything to worry about."

"I feel better already," Natsuno replied vehemently, knowing full well Aito's intentions.

"She's a threat, and all we're asking is that you remove the threat. We'll get someone else if you don't feel like you're up to it-"

"Aren't I the only jinrou?"

Aito clapped his hands happily. "Now you see our urgency!"

His sarcasm irked Natsuno, all the while never actually proving the boy wrong. The tone dissected Natsuno's pride, so much so he almost growled at the smug man. But somehow, he controlled himself, and calmly asked for her name. "Megumi," Aito stated.

Natsuno's eyes twitched. That name…really is just _too _common. Normally, when someone told him about Megumi, they'd be referring to his previous stalker. He knew the emotions that came with it, the predictable movements she made. Now, when someone talked about Megumi, that could be anyone; the model two rooms down, the teacher on the third floor, the pregnant librarian, Nishi's toy dog…

"Wow. Not really feeling helpful, are you?"

"That's all." Aito earnestly. "No last name, no past, just some wanderer from somewhere, in a distant land from once upon a time." Aito flicked his wrist to emphasize his point, and Natsuno sighed frustratedly. This conversation wasn't going anywhere.

"Is there a plan, at least?"

Aito nodded. "We'll close the hospital three nights from now. Daiki will invite her and pretend assign her another kill. That's where you come in and kill her. Just one, clean bite to the neck, and you'll be done."

"So who's gonna replace her?"

"Pardon?"

Natsuno laid back down on his futon. "I assume that if you're planning on murdering this girl, someone's gonna have to take her place. What? You didn't think that through?"

"Daiki and I have talked about it several times over. We've got a few candidates, but we'll need more time." Natsuno noted how Aito never met his eyes whenever he explained. The darkness toward the side of his face made the atmosphere a bit more tense than usual. Just what was he planning? "So…deal?"

Natsuno never heard anymore of the stray vampire named Katsu. It was as if all traces of his existence vanished, evaporated into thin air without a care in the world. The inhabitants never forgot him of course, but Daiki appeared to, as well as his friends, and even Nishi. Whenever Natsuno brought up the subject, they only placed those fake smiles on their faces, as they exclaimed that everything was going to be fine, that in just a few more days, justice will be served. He never caught onto their meaning.

But he didn't have to. They were good people, weren't they?

And it was that notion that made Natsuno accept Aito's proposal.

* * *

Haru was growing on Megumi. There was no doubt about that.

However, being woken up by a screaming, sweaty behemoth was enough to reduce that fondness to nothing.

She glared at him with those red, feral eyes, and used her strength to drag Haru onto the couch. She grabbed his wrists and shoved them to the cushions, her thin body pinning his large one down. It was quite easy actually; in fact, it was Haru who cried "Uncle, uncle!" before Megumi eventually let go. Her hair was everywhere, and her throat felt a bit parched. Was the sun still out?

Indeed it was, which increased Megumi's already agitated mood. "What?" she hissed.

The boy was gasping frantically as he struggled to catch his breath. His constant trembling was making that grotesque sweat drip all over Megumi's couch, and at last, she pushed him off. He collapsed on the floor with a happy thud, as he straightened himself out and sat up, his hands positioned on the edge. "You…you did it! You won!"

She sighed; she wasn't going to get anything out of him while he was like this. Slowly, she stretched out her hand and patted the boy's head, endeavoring to calm his nerves. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You won the design competition!"

What _was _he talking about?

Megumi narrowed her eyes. "Design competition?"

"Yeah, the one at my school," Haru explained. He pulled his legs toward his weight and sat cross-legged in front of her, with that usual, naive face. "Don't you remember? I asked you if I could submit your design, and you said yes, so-"

"W-wait." She whispered softly, her eyes steadily flowing to the disorganized table a few feet away. She never paid much attention to her home, but she always did feel that something was missing. However, because of a few particular enlightenments, she never bothered to check. If nothing important was taken, then it shouldn't be that big of a deal, right? "You did _what _with my design?"

"I submitted it!" He said in that annoyingly happy tone.

"_Why _would you _do_ that?"

He played with the sleeve of his shirt, and a slight flush crept to his face. "Just my way of saying thanks."

She hated to admit it, but Megumi was flattered. It let her know that someone was paying attention, though that person was broken and cowardly. Still, Megumi couldn't overlook the invasion of privacy, even if what he did was out of pure, genuine kindness. "Haru," she started, "you can't just-"

But Haru was too jubilant to listen. "And get this!" he added. "The school is going to host a fashion show a month from now! They want everyone to present the winning dresses to the judges, and if you get picked, you'll get _500,000 _yen, as well as a _paid _internship with this really famous company-"

His words kept spinning around her head. Megumi felt weak and strong, old and young, happy and sad, all in one go. Just a day before, she was sick to her stomach with what she saw, the horrible, disgusting temptations which haunted her sweetly. The nightmares etched themselves into her brain, and her veins coursed with the alcohol of the victims she could no longer even bear to look at, let alone drink from. She had to drink the poison though, just to keep her alive, and no matter what happened, she could never look back, back to her old, trivial lifestyle from when she dreamed of everything.

But from what Haru was saying, she had a chance at the life she wanted. She could go back to those peaceful times, to those illusions…

What'd he _take _her for?

Was he lying to her? Was he getting a good laugh out of this, despite the troubled times? Did he know her at all?

Apparently not. If he did, he'd go running the other way. She gave him a small, fragile smile. "Thank you, Haru," she said. "But I don't think I'll do it."

Haru blinked. "What? Why? You're good enough-"

"And I'm happy to know that other people think I'm good too," she acknowledged. "But there are a lot of things going on right now, things that I need to take care of. I don't think I have time to do the fashion show, y'know?"

Haru sighed frustratedly. "Megumi, you live in an art studio. You've got this entire space all to yourself!"

"I _use _to," she corrected.

Haru laughed sheepishly, causing Megumi to look away in shame. "Y-yeah, you used to. B-but you could do so much more! I-I mean-" Megumi didn't hear any other words that spouted from Haru's throat; his stammering problem was back. She thought he'd gotten more confidence than that. One little phrase caught her attention. "A-and if you won't, I'll keep bothering you about-"

She placed one finger on Haru's unsteady lips. He was persistent, she'll give him that. "Haru, you need to understand that I cannot do this thing." Slowly, she removed her hand. "At least, not until I get this problem sorted out. And besides, you already know my condition."

"Yeah, I know about your stupid allergy," he muttered stubbornly. "But I hear their contracts are really flexible. They've got a lot of nightshifts too…"

Megumi couldn't help but giggle. That was Haru; he just had that childlike charisma. He could win people over without trying, but mostly it was because he was so innocent that he made people want to protect him. It was that protection that allowed Megumi to forget Bethlehem Hospital for a bit, and instead, turn to a more favorable future. And who knows? Maybe this could be a good thing.

But she couldn't afford that kind of luxury.

And for some reason, Megumi consented herself. "What do they need?"

"Just two outfits. Male and female."

"Okay then," Megumi said nostalgically, in that motherly tone of hers. "If you can stay out of trouble, I'll participate."

He brightened like a tiny pup after being played with. Megumi could practically see his wagging tail, and the tears overflowing from his oversized chibi eyes. Again, she laughed. "I'll finish my business up. What did you tell them anyways?"

"I told them I was just sponsoring you. They don't even know who you are."

"I see…then let's keep it that way."

"What?"


	16. Chapter 16

It was no secret that Yuki was pissed.

The first sign was when she dumped all her black nail polish on Kosei-sensei's desk. She smeared it all over the beautiful, wooden surface, and her tainted, thin fingers began clawing against poor thing. The strands of her long, spiky blonde hair kept touching the smudge, blending her platinum prettiness with her polish's shallow vanity. Her eyes were brimming with salty tears, which kept spilling over her already disgusting cheeks. So by the time she was finished with her immature tantrum, she rather appeared more demonic than the false depictions of Kaori she painted in everyone's minds.

The second sign was when her head was down, fists clenched at the edge of the desk, with uncontrollable sobs rising from her throat. Whenever someone walked up to her, she sneered hatefully at them, lips drawn back, and barked incoherently at them for a while, before returning to her "clandestine" position. The fact that she was shaking didn't help much either. A tiny, fragile soul made the mistake of touching the bully's shoulder; later, he walked away with very deep bite marks and a bleeding hand.

But the most important sign could be detected through Ken, the now distant boyfriend whom many students were suspicious of. He never comforted her, never even spoke with her, though she hung onto him with desperate agony. What times he would humor himself with her body he would now shove her away. Whenever she sauntered up toward him in that immoral way of hers, shoving her breasts against his arm, placing her thighs on his to the point where she was practically sitting on him, he wouldn't react. Instead, he flicked his eyes irritatingly at her, before turning away, clearly content with remaining chaste for the day. Normally, Ken would have responded happily to her incessant dares, but for some reason, he wasn't in the mood.

The personal cold war added to Yuki's dark mood.

And thus, no one was safe from her retribution, especially not poor Kaori, who did everything she could to stay out of the girl's way, to no avail, of course. During class, Yuki was more oppressive than usual, as she kept yanking Kaori's ponytails and practically screamed hysterically by how the "slut decided to do the 69 with the teacher." After a few more insults, she obviously wasn't satisfied with Kaori's lack of concern, and went away to scorn someone else. The jokes were so old no one found them funny anymore.

But, at the same time, a lot of girls were suffering from that same, horrifying defeat, a defeat which plagued Yuki constantly. The same despair kept bombarding their minds, as they all questioned who could have done this heinous act to them, who could have interfered with their easy victories. If the atmosphere was this tense, even Kaori couldn't help but wonder who stole the judges' eyes.

The results of the design competition were announced. Every girl thought she was going to win, despite the fact their designs were questionable, much less wearable. Kaori had no sense of fashion at all, and _she _didn't think the drawings were very good. Still, she never would have thought the judges would choose a design submitted by a total stranger, even though the rules did stated anyone could compete. After all, weren't they precious students? Didn't the teachers want them to succeed?

Kaori heard bits of the controversy throughout the corridors. For once, no one was whispering about her, which was refreshing; instead, all eyes were one the mystery winner. And since the student who entered her design was only was sponsoring her, no one could get any information. No matter how hard they pressed, that student kept his mouth shut. As expected, frustrations boiled over.

"It's that Haru guy I think."

"Does he know?"

"Don't know. He wouldn't say…"

"Hey, you think the designer's a guy? You think he's cute?"

"Shut up. No guy would enter _this."_

Kaori sat at her usual spot in the courtyards and opened her bento box. She rubbed her eyes before settling for her meal. The summer wind was beginning to cool, and the breeze that swept away the remnants of her morning jog calmed her. Kaori allowed herself to unwind, the tension in her muscles coming to a soothing halt.

Things have started to get a little difficult. Mr. Yuuki still wasn't out of the hospital yet, so she's taken it upon herself to do all the grocery shopping, the cooking, the chores…Akira would help her occasionally, but lately he's been occupied with making stakes and crosses, which left Kaori to do most of the work. She might even have to get a job at this point; Mr. Yuuki's paycheck doesn't last forever. She was picking at her brain, her thoughts wandering from one problem to the next, from trying to find a way to quell Akira's overeating to improving her below average grades, all the while munching on a piece of bread.

Fortunately, Kaori had a few pleasant surprises here and there. After finding the hydrangea upon her chair, she kept noticing tiny gifts in turning up in front of her, from a heartwarming note in her textbook, to the delicate flowers stuck in her desk, which ranged from daises to roses to other foreign flora she could never name. No one seemed to bother with them, and since she was too busy "minding" her own business, she decided to simply accept the gifts. They were a welcome distraction anyways.

And they were bountiful! It's gotten so that Kaori couldn't walk out of the house without smelling like flowers. No one could really complain about the aroma; they enjoyed the scent too. It also did reduce the bullying a bit. She had to remember to thank the person whenever she finds out who they are.

When she caught sight of a familiar silhouette crossing the grassy atrium, Kaori narrowed her eyes, and straightened herself. She took a deep breath, and addressed Yuki.

She ceased trembling long ago, and in that little strength, she no longer saw Yuki as a monstrous creature. No, no at all; rather, Kaori felt sorry for Yuki's disappointment, however trivial it may be. "Do you need something?" she asked hesitantly.

For a while, Yuki never said anything. Her usually pristine hair was in disarray, and heavy eyeliner was smeared all over her cheeks. The fashionable rags that once decorated her skin were now just that, rags. The wretched things reminded Kaori of a failed prostitute who couldn't get one customer, male or female, to join her in bed. Her expression screamed that pathetic observation painfully, as if asking someone, anyone, why she wasn't attractive enough to entice even onlookers.

Finally, Yuki said something. "Stay _away_ from him."

Kaori blinked. "From who?"

Yuki appeared to writhe agonizingly, and since doing nothing was so worthless to her, she simply stepped forward, and with one hand, slapped Kaori.

Everyone from the classrooms stopped their chattering and laughter, and slowly turned to the two girls, most of whom were surprised by Yuki's sudden outburst of violence. The silence was awkward, and it suffocated Kaori with its little claws. But though her throat began to close up, her tongue tasting bile, she refused to show any emotion, aside from curiosity. Before Kaori could open her mouth, Yuki started sobbing.

Was she really that damaged?

"Don't play dumb!" she screeched. "He's mine, you hear me? MINE! If you come anywhere near him, I'll kill you! You hear me?! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Yuki grabbed Kaori's ponytails, and almost dragged the girl down to the ground. Her bento spilled from her lap, the food splaying on the grass. Already, the insects were gathering around, with their greedy arms grabbing whatever they could. They left Kaori with practically nothing.

"WHAT THE HELL DOES HE SEE IN YOU ANYWAYS?!" Yuki kept crying. "This is so stupid! Look! Nobody likes you! No one even wants you here! Get out, you here me?! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Kaori didn't know how long she stayed like that. Her hands wrapped themselves tightly around Yuki's wrists, as she tried vainly to pry the unstable bully off. The stinging pain faded from her cheek, replaced with a throbbing in her head. She gasped a little when Yuki forcefully tugged her hair upwards, trying to see if she was crying yet.

Kaori refused to give in. "You're insane, you know that?!" Yuki continued. "The hell could he possibly see in you?!"

At last, someone wrenched the heartbroken teen away. Kaori never got a good look at him, and other than his sandy blonde hair, nothing stood out. He was afraid though, Kaori could tell that much; his tall, lanky frame was violently convulsing with fear. "What are you doing?" Yuki cried as she squirmed under his grip. "That _bitch_ deserves it!"

"C-calm down…" he whispered.

"Just shut up!" She shouts as she slapped his hand away. "This doesn't even involve you! Stay out of my fucking business!"

Kaori heard someone approach from behind, and rapidly turned.

It was Ken, who was, as of this point, seething. The tip of his bangs were dyed dark red, and a skull brooch clung loosely to his neck, the emphasized, grotesque details surprising Kaori. Didn't Yuki hate stuff like that? "Hey, idiot," he scoffed. "No one likes a sore loser."

Everyone froze, even the strange, timid man who resided in the background. The air grew cold, and though it was warm, Kaori's veins started to freeze over.

"K-Ken-chan?" Yuki stammered.

Kaori practically watched as this fearsome woman crumble away to nothing more than a spoiled child who didn't know how to deal with ugly things like pain or sorrow or anger. Yuki held up fists close to her heart, as if to prevent it from breaking. She never met his eyes. "N-no. Ken-chan would never say something like that…are you upset with me? Cause if you are, s-she's right h-here…"

"No Yuki," Ken said calmly. "I don't want to do that anymore." He slowly walked toward Kaori, her side resting on his leg, and narrowed his eyes. "Okay? It's over."

"C-come on. Stop playing," Yuki joked emptily, trying to brush away the obvious reality. "If you're so stressed, that slut is-"

"It's over Yuki." he repeated stoically.

"I said IT WASN'T FUCKING FUNNY!" Yuki screeched, making everyone flinch. The uncontrollable sobs distorted whatever words she said next, so much so that if Yuki apologized, if she even begged, Kaori wouldn't have been able to hear it. She doubted anyone could understand her language.

The whole scene ended with Yuki running away, screaming "Ken, you idiot!"

* * *

The bobby pin was still in Natsuno's pocket when he met with Haru that day. The scent wasn't bad, but it was powerful enough to make Natsuno turn away and smother the tiny thing with the folds of his jacket. He had no idea why Aito would give him such a troublesome burden, and in all honesty, the situation sounded more like a power grab than anything else. Was this Megumi chick really that much trouble?

Natsuno sighed, his mind wrapped around that old, archaic question, while Haru relayed to him the events of the day. The boy was jumping up and down in his seat as he told the jinrou of his heroic actions, possibly hoping to impress him, maybe to even urge himself to reevaluate his mental state. For whatever reason, Natsuno found the whole display sickeningly sweet; he abstained from eating the cookie Haru so excitedly bought for him.

When Haru was done with his little tale, Natsuno relaxed against his seat and chuckled. "You feel good about helping that girl?"

"I-I do," Haru said, a slight blush creeping on his face. "This girl was being a bitch to her, and since no one was helping her, I decided to…you know…"

Natsuno raised his eyes with amusement twinkling in his pupils. "Is she cute?"

It took Haru only a second to realize Natsuno's joke, and he immediately began blubbering out excuses, making Natsuno all the more suspicious. "Besides," Haru concluded, "I already have a girl I like."

"Bet she's a great girl."

"Y-yeah. I think she'd totally go out with me. If only…if only I um…"

"If you get off your butt and actually do something." Natsuno rested his hand underneath his chin, a smirk tugging from his lips. "You've told me about her before. How is she by the way?"

"She's fine," Haru said happily. "She was the one who won my school's competition. Everyone's mad about it, but once they see her designs, she'll be good. As soon as she's finished with her work, she'll make the outfits."

"She must be skilled."

"She is," Haru said proudly. "I bet she can run an entire store with just her designs alone. She's that good. Man-"

Natsuno never listened to the rest of Haru's speech. He could only pay attention to his scent, which seemed wrapped its innocence around the pin.

It doesn't matter though. As soon as tonight was over, Natsuno could go back to…

…to what?

Aside from the occasional assignment, all he'd ever done was observe, wander from one place to another without any sort of predictable pattern. The goal he set for himself was already achieved by another group, and all his ambition had evaporated. If it hadn't been for Haru, he might as well have degraded into tiny pieces, holding no will or emotions. Did Haru expect Natsuno to be here forever? Did he expect the shiki to stay there forever, talking about whatever they wanted to without a care in the world?

Did Natsuno hold that assumption as well?

* * *

Megumi stood outside the Bethlehem Hospital, her dark, red eyes taking in the last moments of the standing building. The cold wind blew alongside her long, elegant dress. The bright crimson entwined with the surrounding darkness, and her fingerless gloves whose black, see-through vines reached all the way to her elbows, grazed the night's air. The corset fit loosely against her torso, a testament to her losing weight, and the black leggings were blended with a subtle hint of black rose petals. Her pink hair was neatly tied back to one ponytail, sweeping any unwanted strand away from her eyes. Carefully, she made her way to the inside of the hospital, where she surveyed the insides.

She'd readied everything, the explosives, the bombs, the grenades, everything she could ever hope to find. The police were more than willing to accommodate her, as they had for the past few months. A few of their forces were scattered all over, ready to set ablaze that eyesore. At approximately midnight, both the tunnels and the Hospital are set to burn.

Since the tunnels were mostly linear, the fire would make a clean massacre from start to finish, and for the winding pathways, Megumi made sure to add gasoline on the concrete, on the floors, on the fabrics, on those stray morsels of food. She had to make sure everything burns.

The hospital was no different either; just one big explosion on the lower floors and the entire thing will come crumbling down, killing anyone and everyone inside. The ceilings in the basement would protect Mr. Yuuki from the fires, as well as everyone else, though Megumi knew she didn't have much time before they victims gave out to carbon monoxide.

Megumi had the police stationed away, far away to where neither Daiki nor Aito could sense them. At around eleven fifty, they'll arrive at Bethlehem Hospital, and at midnight, they'll help carry out the victims. It was fine; they wouldn't remember anything at all, aside from Megumi's orders to come to the Hospital.

Everything was planned out.

Did Megumi feel guilty? Did she even feel remorse? After all, innocents were going to die. Women, children, unsuspecting humans and shiki alike, they were all going to burn. Megumi could just, at least, kill those two, and rescue the humans stranded here. She could try and reason with them. She could do anything, anything at all, a way that would involve less effort and more satisfactory results.

Yet, as Megumi knew, she was alone.

She wasn't human. She wasn't bound to the same rules humans were.

It was why she so very readily lied to Haru when she did. She had no intention of helping him in his foolish endeavors. He should just forget about her and live out his own life, happily, safely. He was a smart boy; though he was shackled down by his vulnerabilities and self-doubt, he could do anything he wanted, go anywhere he wanted to go. He wasn't trapped like she was. Haru's family was a part of the yakuza, so he had enough money to go to school, travel, pay for mental hospitals…whatever. He wasn't going to be chained like she was.

Was she feeling a bit suicidal?

Yes.

After she rescues Mr. Yuuki, she'll go somewhere else and do her own thing. The big city was already beginning to bore her, and if it weren't for Haru, she would have long since moved.

Two familiar existences had already approached the hospital, one through the window, the other through the doors. Megumi checked the clock nearby and giggled.

Thirty more minutes.

Thirty more minutes and it'd all be over.


	17. Chapter 17

Haru busily scratched out the formulas with one hand, the other tugging at his already bleeding skull, while trying to equal x to y, z to t, alpha some other letter he didn't know existed. The papers before him were marred by hellish delight and unrealistic gore, as they were covered with tiny angry marks, wrinkled with frustrated pleas. A few paper balls never made it to the wastebasket, their abandonment as evident as the boy's vain efforts to solve such mathematical complexities. At last, he threw his homework away in disgust and snuggled his head in the folds of his arms, hoping to soothe his nerves before beginning again.

Or not beginning at all.

Frankly, he was starting to get tired of all this school work; he'd much rather help Megumi prepare for the fashion show, though fashion was never his forte. At the very least he was doing what he liked. And who knows? Maybe Megumi could use him as a mannequin, choking him with ribbons and lace until he was no longer recognizable.

That wasn't a very exciting prospect either.

Still, it gave him something to look forward to.

It was Friday night, as he has heard so many times today, and all of Haru's classmates were out partying in the various clubs of Tokyo. Singing karaoke, attending mixers, doing drugs, making out, having sex…all of which he knew they were going to brag about the next day. He never actually partook in those kinds of conversations, however. They were simply wastes of time, but alas, no one ever asked for his opinion, so he never said much at all. Aside from the occasional rumors, one about him being gay for the mysterious fashion designer (they all decided that Megumi was a guy), and the other about him stalking Kaori, he never made much of a fuss.

And so here he was, holding down the penthouse while Megumi was away, doing her own business. Judging from the neatness of the once unorganized desk, as well as the coldness of the sowing machine, it appears that Megumi had never even touched that those designs. He knew she had to finish up on something, but he did think that at the very least, she could begin some of it. What did she have to do that was so important anyways?

He poured out those same frustrations on Natsuno today, but he didn't think his weird companion took him seriously. After all, all Natsuno did was simply stare out the window and respond to the simplest of questions, before degrading to an idiotic, "Hmm."

Of course, it took a while for Haru to catch on, since he was going on and on about Megumi; perhaps Natsuno was merely bored with the recurring conversational topic. Or maybe he was getting bored of Haru himself.

Was he? Haru could never tell with him.

It was the same with Megumi. Recently, she's been out later and later every night, to the point that she would sometimes never come back at all, even during the day. Sometimes, she would be gone for days on end; it was as if she was trying to avoid him. And there was a strange scent on her, a scent that smelled like fire and gasoline. Whenever he asked about it, she would only shake her head, smile at him in that cute, adorable way, and order him to go back to his own work. He never got much information after that; whenever he did bring up the subject, she would cease talking altogether.

Now why would that be?

Haru's mind went away from the undoable homework, and concentrated on the strange behavior of his dear friends, both of whom he owed everything to. He was afraid, really afraid, that they would leave him someday in order to take on another task, or seek out other pleasures. They were still young, after all. They could do anything they wanted, and Haru was sure they desired more in life than just babysitting a depressed, suicidal boy. Natsuno could easily be a tutor, or a school counselor, or even a psychiatrist, with millions of dollars in the bank just waiting to be used. And maybe he was, considering how good he handled Haru. As for Megumi…well, her future was already laid out in front of her; she just had to reach out and take it.

Then there was Haru, who had little to look forward to, a ruined home to go back to, a hearth that hasn't been lighted in years. His grades weren't all that great, and he was shy and timid. He never had any notable talents, and whenever someone asked for him, he was only passed over, as if he were nothing more than an abandoned arts district, just waiting for ruin. He wasn't social, never talked with anyone, never had any meaningful connections…besides with the yakuza…and he was in no way handsome. In truth, he was truly and utterly useless.

But even though he knew it was a fleeting dream, Haru still wanted to be with them. He wanted them to enjoy whatever time they had left. And who knows? Maybe they could even get together someday and laugh like his classmates do. Getting drunk on the hour, dancing the sad, lonely nights away, fool around a little…

His brain started going off into some distant dream, where Megumi was there, in that white, beautiful dress, Natsuno in the pews, smiling happily, Haru walking up the altar…

Haru felt his face heat up, before immediately shut the illusion down. He looked down, unraveled his new failure, and continued working, as though at any minute, Megumi would walk in with an armful of fabrics.

* * *

Natsuno walked into through the Bethlehem Hospital, unsurprised by the loneliness which greeted him so thoroughly. He was only wearing a plain white dress shirt, a shirt that would've made that perverted secretary ogle him the whole night, and black, loose jeans that snugly fit his legs. His gray combat boots were covered with straps, though they were light enough so that they never made sound when he walked. His old purple, checkered jacket was torn, ragged, the object he used to carry around fondly now reduced to scraps. It wasn't the most sanitary thing he had, but for some reason, he couldn't really bear to part with it.

He carried himself to the tenth floor, where Daiki and Aito were probably waiting, along with the person called Megumi. He started towards the elevator, reached for the buttons, and watched as the steel doors closed so readily. His thoughts strayed to today's discovery, and he bit his lip in reluctance.

His brain wracked for an explanation as to why Haru had that similar scent on him. Natsuno cursed himself when the boy had already left, as he had forgotten to interrogate him; Natsuno should've asked for that girl's name, where she lived. Maybe that would've narrowed the search down, and then he wouldn't have had to come at all. Now because of his forgetfulness, he had to come here, sully his hands with someone else's blood.

A shiki's blood…

Something had plagued Natsuno for a while now. He was starting feeling kind of weak. Headaches, coughing fits, nausea, which was sometimes so bad he wanted to vomit…unless the universe had a sick sense of humor, the only beings that should suffer from those kinds of troubles were living creatures, humans and animals alike. True, he _did _have a pulse, but he was still _dead. _Was this some kind of adverse effect from not feeding for the last couple of days? Was this some kind of weird illness only shiki could get? Even now, as he was readying himself, Natsuno knew his condition was less than satisfactory.

The symptoms were probably from that stuff Aito asked Natsuno to drink. "Vampire blood is always extremely powerful," Aito said. "If you drink this, you'll be ready for anything."

"Sorry, I just fed."

Aito nearly forced it down his throat.

He did that consecutively for the last week. And for a while, it seemed like he was right; Natsuno could feel an imaginary adrenaline through his veins, and the pulse from his body grew louder and louder.

Then, on nights like these, that adrenaline would turn to poison.

Natsuno sighed. He told Aito about this condition, but the okiagari said that the experience was a part of the process, that he'll get used to it soon. He would then give Natsuno that smile, a smile that haunted him for days on end. It was the same eerie grin he received from everyone in the tunnels. It was creepy, dark, dangerous, demonic in every sense of the word.

And suddenly, he knew he wasn't safe anymore.

Natsuno shifted through the months he spent with them, the people that surrounded him with warmth and hearth, as he tried to figure out exactly what he did wrong. He was actually on the verge of asking them, when he thought better of it. If they were all willing to put up such a farce, why should he then, expect them to tell him anything? At best, he was going to get laughed at for being such a naive child.

He closed his eyes, and thought back. _He _did something, right? Just a bit of thinking was more than likely all it took to sort out this whole mess. There was still time before the elevator stopped.

Daiki told him he was still searching for Katsu, though by now it was more than likely that he was dead. Though he was the so-called "leader" of the tunnels, he didn't seem at all ready to forsake the past, and help out with the present. In fact, it seemed like he was so caught up with it, Natsuno was surprised he was an effective leader at all. Whenever Natsuno talked with him, it was always about some defector that needed to be taken care of, or a threat that had to be eliminated. He was most passionate about Katsu.

Afterwards, he would give Natsuno that same smile.

Natsuno kept going back to the time when he first arrived. He followed a man who was pursuing a woman, down to the tunnels, to those black brothels. That man was about to kill the woman, and Natsuno saved her. He killed that man, there was no doubt about it.

But it had to be done. If he hadn't, an innocent would've…

…would've…

The realization hit the jinrou hard, so much so he took another step to prevent himself from falling. He blinked, remembering the vampire's face, the one that now refused to leave his mind. He could feel the corpse demon smirking, giggling, laughing at Natsuno's foolish decisions, all the while Natsuno clutched his sleeves.

That man was Katsu.

Anger, then pain, then anger again. How long did Aito know? How long did _Daiki know? _Is that why they took him in, just to kill him in the end, or to use him for their own gains? Was that why Aito was so adamant about getting Natsuno on their side? Did everyone know?

It seems like they did.

But wasn't he going to kill that woman? Surely not even Daiki was able to stomach such a cruel, cold murder!

Then he heard a scream from the vents.

Daiki.

Startled, he looked up, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. What a painful howl. And that howl was followed by Aito's incompetent, incoherent pleas.

He took no pleasure in their pain, but then of course, he didn't exactly feel like saving them either. Then, at last Haru came back into his mind. It didn't excuse the fact that he still smelled like that pin. And it was that same smell that now penetrated his nose. Natsuno felt himself grin, as the elevator door opened. His legs were going numb, but that was okay. He didn't care if he had to crawl out; he wanted to see the face of those liars. He wanted to see them writhing in agony; maybe he could even break off a leg or two. He didn't even care if he had to crawl to do it. It was worth it.

Slowly, he made it to the ballroom.

And stopped.

That familiar scent bombarded him at all sides, and in that, he saw pink hair. He saw pink hair, a dancing shiki within the reign of blood. He saw her crimson dress, her cool, dark, tiny frame, as it soaked in the blood of her victims. The whiteness of her skin contrasted to the black holes in her eyes, and the nightmares Natsuno suffered from pushed his brain, back and forth, back and forth. Her black heels silhouetted themselves in the shadows of the organs that dominated the floors, and all the while, there their heads were, as if patiently waiting for their bodies to be returned to them.

Daiki and Aito.

Although at this point, it didn't seem like they were waiting at all. The whites of their eyes were exposed, their fangs forcefully yanked out, leaving behind only gums and blood. The veins were bulging due to the sudden onset of blood, and their noses were broken. Daiki's head was sitting upright, as if trying to be the good child the person in front of him adored. Aito's head, however, wasn't so lucky, as he was kicked away by the force of her boots. Bits of grey and white matter covered the vicinity, along with a few coils of brain, which wrapped around their foreheads so gracefully.

Natsuno felt the whole world buckle under him, but for some reason, he still remained conscious. His hands were trembling, his pupils shaking. He felt himself move forward. _Kill her! _a voice inside urged. _Kill her while she's distracted! _

Then, he felt heat.

Explosive heat.

The flames engulfed the two shiki then.

Natsuno looked up again, never once meeting the vengeful spirit's eyes. All that cruelty melted away, and there only remained shock and despair.

There she was, Megumi Shimizu, in all her terrifying beauty.

A beauty that had already vanished the moment his domesticated eyes met her feral ones.

* * *

Megumi felt herself spiraling down the stairwells, racing ahead of the hellfire, which roared behind her. She could feel the heat on her back, the burning embers scorching the laces of her dress while the stitches hopelessly engulfed itself in the cinders. She shoved herself against the steel walls, their cold touch piercing her skin with their cool indifference. Her ponytail flew after her so willfully, so happily, playing tag with a being it could never reach. Her heels slammed against the ground when she finally reached the lower levels, determination settling in her eyes.

But before that, before those precious seconds, she was shaken. Her resolve had weakened, and the very memory of that moment seared itself into her soul. In fact, by the time she managed to move, she could still recall the shock on her face, the confusion, the utter helplessness.

She thought she saw Natsuno.

Of course, it could be just an apparition. Her beloved, sweet Yuuki was dead after all. That stupid village took him away from her, and no one could have survived that fire. She saw Sotoba on more than enough police reports to realize that simple fact, and in doing so, she emotionally starved herself.

She thought to herself that it was just her thoughts yearning for him, her heart breaking at the sight of the unexpected reminiscence, evidence of a lust that was so insatiable it could never relax no matter how hard she tried. And even now, as she planned to remove the shackles which bound his father, Megumi was indeed haunted by that very moment, when it seemed that everything came crashing down on her.

The bright glows began following her, before she shut the door. Hurriedly, she started towards the patients, lighted the matches, and began smearing the flame all over the bars. She was pleased when the strange material burst, leaving no trace of its cruel, rusted appearance. The iron crumbled to nothing as she crouched down and violated its contents.

With one, twisted jerk, she forcefully removed the needles, pulled away the tubes, and steadied the patients with one arm. She didn't care if they suddenly started bleeding. Anywhere was better than here, even if they were half-dead.

She laid them out carefully, and one by one, due to her unnatural disturbance, they started to awaken, the grogginess refusing to budge from their brains. Though Megumi was working, she knew they struggled to stand, to walk towards the door. From the distance, she could hear the sirens going on and off, followed by footsteps and frantic screaming. She heard the police calling for someone, for anyone, for any victims that had a chance of surviving another second.

Oh, and here they were, wasting another second.

One by one, the victims began running out, crying for help. They were so desperate they never even noticed the flames which they ran into. Their hospital gowns were slowly fading away, the white gradually turning to black ash. The ones who remained were straining against their chains with all their might, chaotically endeavoring to show Megumi just where to cut to free them. No word of thanks was given; all they were focused on at the moment was survival.

Megumi heard the ceiling crack. She rapidly looked up, and at once, proceeded to Mr. Yuuki, who was still unconscious. She bit her lip, and lighted her match again, only to jump back at the sudden onslaught of flames. She closed her eyes and shielded herself with her arms, and only a split second later, she turned to Mr. Yuuki, who was, fortunately, protected by the cage.

The flames were invading the basement, so much so Megumi had a hard time seeing. But she crouched down, and allowed the embers to seep through the cracks in the metal, and with one pull, she severed the bars of the cage.

She ripped out the needles and the tubes, and reached for the oxygen mask that was set beside his side. She hastily brushed away his gray hair and shoved it on, before at last, making her way out of the room. She tilted her head a bit, hearing all the victims whom were being recovered by the police. She heard the pleading that took place as they begged to see their families once again, to listen to their wild stories, a stories that involved vampires and zombies and ghosts…

All of which the police would neither believe nor listen to…

She held Mr. Yuuki close, and jumped back when another part of the ceiling fell through. Bits and pieces of night became exposed, which allowed a plethora of oxygen to add to the crimson inferno. The burning tongues were slowly making their way towards Mr. Yuuki's lifeless body; Megumi shifted her weight under his, and then started to walk.

She grunted, her vision was getting blurry, and she was starting to feel lightheaded. The oxygen mask was slipping from Mr. Yuuki's mouth, and she could feel her knees buckle under. Yet somehow, there she was, still standing.

She felt a presence nearby, a murderous presence, one which cast a dark glare to fate's mercy. Instinctively, she shielded Mr. Yuuki's body with hers and lowered herself, ready for the intruder's attack.

Her ghost came back, it seems.

* * *

When Natsuno saw his father, unconscious, straddled like a corpse in Shimizu's arms, he was seething. He ignored the black silhouette which grazed his memories, and rushed forward toward the ailing vampire. With one hand, he grabbed her wrist, and with the other, he yanked her head. "Let go of him!" he screamed.

Shimizu refused to do so. Instead, she clung to him tighter. The oxygen mask had already fallen off, and the sweat started. His body fluids were evaporating, Natsuno realized. And at that moment, he let go, surprised by his own uncontrollable emotions.

The girl was still sitting there, clutching is father with all her might. He couldn't see her eyes or face, but through the muffles, he could hear her begging him, begging Natsuno to save him.

Then something happened.

All of a sudden, Natsuno immediately doubled over, the nausea once again overtaking him. He cursed, as he clutched the floors, the flames slowly closing in on them. He couldn't move; it felt like there were a million knives entrenched in his bones, and the violence of the pain was overshadowing his normally calm senses. He felt like someone was breaking his arms, and before long, he was shaking, trying to control his cold veins.

His veins were bulging, and in the midst of the flames, something spewed from Natsuno's mouth. His eyes widened, as he covered his mouth, his already wounded pride falling within the shadows of the madness.

He was coughing up blood.

* * *

Megumi felt the ghost's grip loosen. She squeezed Mr. Yuuki before steadying herself, trying to see the haunting once more. No, it can't be. Could something as fleeting as a ghost feel pain?

And blood was coming out from under him.

Automatically, Megumi stood, holding Mr. Yuuki in a bridal fashion. Whatever happened, whatever was wrong, Megumi still had to save him. She wanted to save him. She _needed _him.

The desperation was enough for her to shield him from the destructive red. She tried to get him to open his eyes. "Hey!" she cried.

"G-get off me," the boy, her Yuuki, whispered.

She gritted her teeth, and tried getting him to stand.

No use.

And from the smell, she already knew why he was like this.

She was about to drag the both of them out, when she heard the familiar calls of the police, all of whom were just about ready to go inside and see if there was anyone left, anyone to answer them, else wise they were dead.

Someone saw Megumi.

Frantically, she left Mr. Yuuki there; she could faintly hear his pulse; no matter how weak it was. And she felt Natsuno's pulse as well, but by then it was too quiet, and his flesh was becoming more and more cold.

"Hey miss!" a police officer cried out. "Miss, over here!"

She never looked at the police officer, never bothered to even answer him or give him any orders. She didn't think about the tunnels, which were more than likely suffering the same fate, or the end of its inhabitants. By now, their corpses were probably burning. And it was that leverage that made Megumi stand, steal Natsuno away, and escape the flames.

The last thing she saw was Mr. Yuuki being carried outside the hospital, with gleeful cries of "He's alive! He's alive!" in the air.


	18. Chapter 18

The first thing Haru saw in that bleak, lightless morning was Megumi.

The red dress she'd been working on for far too long was ruined. Her ponytail was down, and her bangs were splayed all over her forehead. The laces were all ripped out, and her legs were covered in a mix of black and red; the patterns were so disconcerting Haru thought she was n the process of making another outfit. Her rosette eyes were looking everywhere at once, so much so he almost had to jump out of the way to avoid her immovable frame.

The second thing Haru saw was Natsuno, who was clinging to her side.

Natsuno, who had blood trickling down from his lips. Natsuno, who as dressed as if he were going to a formal, was there, a corpse-like expression decorating his face, with tiny blots of blue all over his skin. He was covered by his signature purple jacket, but when a bit of that shroud disappeared, underneath lay a multitude of grotesque wounds.

Why they were together, the boy had no trouble figuring it out. From the familiar stench and scorch marks, he could tell where they'd been, what they'd been doing.

He didn't know what to tell them.

So he helped Megumi with Natsuno, and placed him on the couch. As soon as his body touched the soft fabric, Natsuno started writhing in agonizing pain. His fingers kept clutching the cushions, trying to seek out something beyond reason, beyond logic. Haru never saw his back again, the jacket lying forgotten on the table. His former companion kept clutching his stomach, and it was then Haru heard Natsuno coughing.

Bits of red splattered over the floor.

"Natsuno!" Haru lunged forward, only to be stopped by Megumi. He gripped her arms tightly, as if trying to force her out of his way. Surprisingly, Megumi didn't flinch. "You know him?" she asked darkly.

"Y-yeah! He's my friend!"

Megumi froze.

Natsuno's heavy heaving and groaning made Haru flinch, and all the blood that came pouring out from his system emphasized Haru's desperation. But Megumi wasn't letting him go forward. "So he's your friend?" she repeated stupidly.

"Yes, he is!" Haru said frustratingly. "He is! We have to do something! We need to get him to a hospital, or call an EMT, or-!"

"Haru," Megumi said calmly.

"What?!"

Slowly, she turned to him with calm, stoic eyes, and said, "I want you to go to school."

The statement, at first, brushed past him effortlessly, but as the seconds passed, her words eventually sank in. Haru blinked, not believing in what he thought to be a careless insult. "What?"

"Haru-"

"Just go to school?! Megumi, come on, this is-"

"Haru," Megumi said resolutely.

This wasn't happening. This _can't _be happening. Haru wanted to protest. He wanted to show Megumi he could help, that he wasn't worthless. He wanted to show her that he didn't need to rely on her, that he could be independent, that he could contribute something, even if it might not be much. He wanted to stay by Natsuno's side and watch over him until he gets better.

And yet, for some reason, his body wasn't under his control.

He inwardly screamed, trying to regain his senses. But all he did manage was to pick up his bag, walk out, and leave his dying friend alone.

He never went to school that day. Instead, he went to the cafe, and simply ordered two muffins, one for Megumi, the other for Natsuno.

* * *

Megumi rushed to the jinrou's side, and carefully unfolded his ailing body. Her dark eyes were scanning the bruises and burn marks. His veins were bulging, filled with an unnecessary fluid that seared through the entirety of his organs. And though Yuuki kept moving, she could easily identify the substances that sailed under his skin.

Poison.

Those guys fed on poison.

And they made Yuuki _drink it._

Daiki and his group never had a Baroness to begin with. Why they claimed so was probably due to their own sick illusions. The money they got to pay Megumi was probably from the hospital revenues, rather than some grand, Gothic legend, and as for the tunnels, the hearths which didn't exist anymore…they were probably the result of some failed game, some trivial act that was abandoned long ago.

Her own thoughts were flurried, filled with scorn and vanity. What? Were they trying to live out their ideals, creating a perfect world where sin and horror didn't exist? Were they so desperate that they would enslave a helpless girl just to feed their own inflated self-worth? That hospital was the bed of their fatal error, and it was because of that fatal error it burned to the ground. By now, there shouldn't be anything left, save for a stray glass fragment or two

That girl, whoever the poor thing was, the one who had the unfortunate hell to play the Baroness, is dead. Her blood, as it turns out, was filled with abnormal mutations and undeveloped disasters. Become suicidal, go insane, gleefully dance to the tunes of the asylum…anything could happen. It was like a disease almost. Whoever drank from it became more and more dependent on her, and since Yuuki had already tasted it, what was left for him but to nurture that obsession?

It was a consequence Megumi couldn't stand.

So she had to purify his blood with human blood, before that pathogen spreads throughout his body. Fortunately, she's already fed the night before, and she still had some left for Natsuno. She felt those familiar fangs protrude from her mouth, and she slowly leaned in. Megumi was about to pierce his skin, when she was suddenly forced back, her hip hitting the side of the ornate table. She looked up.

There he was, Natsuno Yuuki, the boy she loved, the boy who was now staring at her in disgust.

"K-keep away from me…" he muttered. His skin was turning paler and paler, the shadows underneath his eyes growing with each second.

She straightened herself, and leaned forward. "Yuuki…"

"Just shut up!" he shouted, causing Megumi to freeze. The frustration in his tone was embraced by pain, by hopelessness…it sounded as if he was getting over the fact that the world he himself was enraptured in, was shattered in an instant. Why? "What the hell do you think you're doing to me?"

"I…I was…"

"Where is he?" he suddenly demanded. Yuuki attempted to stand, but his legs were already trembling, and a moment later, he collapsed on the floor. Megumi crouched down and tried to set him back on the couch, but he pushed her away. "Where is he?!"

"Mr…Mr. Yuuki is…going to a real hospital," she finished confidently. "The police will make sure of it."

"You expect me to believe that crap load of lies?!" Yuuki looked like he was about to say something else, but then he stopped. Megumi narrowed her eyes, and grabbed hold of him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She could feel him still fighting her, refusing her help.

Were those really memories that terrifying?

"I…I know you don't expect anything from me," Megumi said at last. "I know you hate me. I mean, that's the reason why you never said anything to me…back when we were still alive…and how you ripped up my postcard…"

And it hit her.

All the pain she caused her beloved Yuuki.

She stalked him. She kept coming up to him with that annoying smile, even though she knew he didn't like it. She got rid of Kaori's dad, just to try and keep her away from him. She killed his best friend, all for the sake of some petty jealousy. She tried to kill him so that no one else would get him, though she should have tried to keep him alive for as long as possible.

Long enough so he could live out the life she would never have.

Wet drops splattered Yuuki's cheeks. "But at least…" she whimpered. "I want to save you this time…"

She never got to finish. She was suddenly against the floor, her skull hitting the table with all its weight. She let out a yelp. She tried to get up, but she couldn't move. Someone was holding her down.

Yuuki was bearing down at her, his fangs already making their way towards her throat.

Megumi felt the force of his hands, the painful pressure almost causing her to pass out. "You're not scared, are you?" he growled. "You've done this before. You should know how it works."

And in that moment, he bit her.


	19. Chapter 19

Kaori woke to an unpleasant alarm.

The sun rays never even hit her, nor did the suffocating humidity reach her, its claustrophobic tendrils wrapping the shadows around her neck. She hadn't noticed the beads of sweat on her forehead, nor did she realize the extent at which Akira had been clawing against her skin. Finally, with one deep breath, the tiny boy screamed, "WAKE UP!"

She nearly clobbered him after that incident.

Kaori jolted upwards, nearly knocking Love out of the bed. She struggled to regain her already disoriented senses, a remnant of yesterday's job-hunting, so much so she almost fell to the floor. If it weren't for Love's constant pushing and Akira's tugging, she might've even enjoyed the precarious luxury of lying on the ground.

What was with them anyways? Today was a Sunday, wasn't it? Maybe Akira stayed up all night again, and now he was hungry, or maybe Love was trying to yank her out for his daily walk, or maybe Mr. Yuuki was feeling a bit better and Ms. Kankoshi decided to tell her about it. Any one of those excuses would assuage her irritable mood, however unlikely it seemed. "What?" she whispered finally, only to be pulled away by some violent force.

Tiny blurs of shapes past her as Akira hurriedly led Kaori out of her safe, comfortable room, with Love trotting frantically behind. The familiar, wooden boards bombarded the palms of her feet, the hot air of the living room scarcely missing her with its warm, homey scent, and yet despite all that, reality appeared to allude her. It wasn't until she smelled something, a disturbing aroma which wrung her nostrils with ashes and smoke led her sleep-deprived mind to believe that Akira had burned something again, and needed her to put out the ever growing fires.

Again, she repeated her question, though this time with more urgency.

"Just…come…over…here!" Akira grunted, shoving his sister across their tiny living. He shoved her down on the kitchen chair, ran over to the television set, and in one second, the screen was brightly lit, the muffled voices a result of the loud volume. Kaori was still rubbing the weariness from her eyes when she caught word of the Bethlehem Hospital. Her ears perked up, and immediately, her heart beat grew more and more rapid.

"A mysterious explosion had destroyed a majority of the building," the reporter stated. "There is an ongoing investigation as to what caused such a terrible tragedy. So far, police say that there has been no evidence of arson, and that the fires were likely caused by an gas leak in the lower basement. It is unlikely that this incident will turn into a full scale criminal investigation-"

Automatically, Kaori stood and leaped toward the phone, nearly tripping over Love as she drew from her panic. Her breathing grew shallower and shallower, her body anxious with fear. She bit her lip and gripped the phone in her trembling hands. The numbers were staring at her, begging her to talk with someone, with anyone, about a man called Mr. Yuuki.

Akira blinked, surprised by his sister's vitality, his once vibrant, young self now eroding away with worry. Kaori however, shared his emotions, and shakily dialed Ms. Kankoshi.

No answer.

"Well?" Akira demanded.

"S-she's not picking up…" she said frighteningly.

"What? What about Mr. Yuuki?!"

"H-hold on," Kaori said, and dialed the nurse's phone number again. It took ten minutes of useless silence, but eventually, Kaori tossed the phone aside on the kitchen counter, her brain writhing in uncertainty. Akira wordlessly took the phone and resumed their hopeless efforts, beating his fists against the wall with each failure.

Her body felt numb, and a cool ice settled within her veins. A furry thing kept pushing against her legs, and without thinking Kaori picked Love up, and squeezed him tightly, as if he were the only thing left to anchor them to the world. She felt him twisting in her arms, as he tried licking away that strange, salty stream that was pouring from underneath her eyes. His soft, white fur tickled her skin so gently, and his tiny body made her feel somewhat in control. The reporter claimed her attention once again, and immediately, Kaori looked up, a welcome distraction in the midst of the confusion.

"There were many casualties," the reporter continued. "An estimated total of four hundred staff members and twenty-two patients were found dead when police arrived. Once the fire department was able to quell the fire, police officers came onto the scene to look for more bodies.

"However," he managed a struggling smile, "if it weren't for their collective efforts, the damage would have been a lot more devastating. Back to you Ayame."

The screen flickered back to a newsroom, where the callous anchorman stared back at her with those cold, lifeless eyes. "Thank you, Yamamoto-san. Meanwhile, while the Bethlehem Hospital was burning, _another_ fire appeared in the lower districts of Shinjuku." A picture of the red-light district came on the screen; the labyrinth was so confusing Kaori cocked her head a bit, all the while brushing away Akira's bouts of frustration.

"A popular place for many visitors, police are more than likely to rule this fire as an accidental. Hundreds of lives, however, were taken by this incident; there were no bodies that seemed to be intact. They all appeared to have been cremated due to the intensity of the fire. It is a sad day today, but the death toll shows no signs of stopping-"

Kaori turned it off.

She couldn't bear to hear anymore. She didn't want to face the prospect of Mr. Yuuki among the dead. If she were to call the police, she might as well have broken down right then; what would it feel like, she wondered, if she saw his ashes lying on the table? What if they asked the siblings to identify his body? Would they stand there mocking her, judging her, as they put on their meticulously carved facades in the hopes of showing any sympathy?

And what if he wasn't cremated? What if, instead, his ash-covered face was mangled by the fires, his face showing signs of a struggle against the prevailing carbon monoxide that surfaced in the air? Did all his fluids evaporate? Did any organs catch fire?

The questions kept swirling in Kaori's mind. A certain despair pierced her chest, as well as a fear to hope for the better light of things.

What was she going to do anyways, if Mr. Yuuki was dead? Even with a job, she can barely give Akira a decent life, much less a luxurious one. She'd have to quit school. She'd have to submit herself to whatever bullies came across her way, just to…just to…

Akira received a phone call later that day. A police officer, by the name of Rento Saito, had asked them to come down to the station to identify one of the victims.

* * *

By now, everyone has heard the tale of the two fires, one at a prestigious, wondrous place, crafted carefully by private investments and government aid, the other a rundown red-light district, resting in some insignificant part of Shinjuku. They've all heard of the increasing casualties, along with the dangerous scandals which consisted of resentment towards the upperclass, a grief-stricken widow getting revenge for a botched surgery, or even a ghost from Hiroshima, bent on destroying the entire nation simply for the thrill of it. They were all ludicrous, of course, but nonetheless, they were entertaining; it took everyone's minds off of how brief life was, how two major incidents like those could creep up behind everyone, then shock them with Death's greediness.

And through such rumors, the students at school had an easier time concentrating on the upcoming fashion show. They all asked that old question of who the now famed fashion designer was, though now with disheartening tones and shuddering glances. They kept organizing and reorganizing the event, trying to get the most important sponsors to sit up in the front. They kept bringing in dark dresses and fabrics, trying to imitate the winning design. They kept track of all the companies that were attending the event. They did this. They did that.

They even kept bringing up the subject of how odd they were, those myriad of substitute teachers, when Kosei-sensei was causing the school to lose so much money. Didn't he know he was going to get fired? Didn't he know he was hurting the students, though they made fun of him for his adorable cravenness?

Yet in spite of these efforts, no one could forget.

For the first day, and the days after that, Haru never saw that timid little girl again. That girl, Kaori, who seemed so fragile Yuki might've broken her had not he stepped in. That girl, the witch of Sotoba, who the students were now whispering might have actually caused the fires, and was now probably being held in police custody for questioning. That girl, who chose to keep her head down instead of fight back, with those subtle signs of depression already evident within the shadows under her eyes.

As the week wore on, it appears Yuki had gone missing as well.

But no one bothered asking why; the students all knew how she tended to blow everything out of proportion, even for the tiniest infringement. Ever since Ken dumped her, she never showed up at school, but she'd been calling everyone nonstop, threatening to commit suicide if someone didn't help her. It seems her mother got her a psychologist, but even then that didn't help. One of her former friends even reported seeing Yuki in the girl's bathroom; she was understandably terrified, as though she were seeing a demon rather than her friend. And combined with the loss of the design competition, Yuki had been reduced to little more than an unthinkable mass, ready to destroy everything around her in the hopes of starting anew.

Still, those were such trivial problems. Haru would give anything to have problems like that. He would even take on Yuki's own nature, if it meant getting away from it all.

But it was a pointless wish. He's had plenty of opportunities to imitate Yuki, and in those moments, he neither found the consequences amusing nor fun. They were wastes of time, those useless endeavors. What good were those emotions anyways, when they turned you into _that?_

Of course, he wasn't speaking from experience.

Haru sighed, and continued staring out the window, his own reflection screaming volumes at his tiredness.

He hadn't seen Natsuno since that day.

When he came back from school, his friend was gone, and so was Megumi. The blood was all over the cushions, with bits of black blending into the background. But overall, he didn't find the aspect alarming. Somehow, he managed to fool himself the two were seeing a local EMT and were getting treated. He didn't know what to do at the time, so he simply sat there, waiting for either of them to come back. Eventually, Megumi came to him, only to ask him to leave. He adamantly refused, and instead, shoved a muffin to her face, which she declined politely.

Alarm bells rang from inside his head.

He asked of Natsuno's whereabouts, but she merely said she didn't know, laid on the couch, and slept. Her skin was somehow paler than usual, and she looked sick. Really sick. Just as sick as Natsuno was when he first arrived. However, Haru knew he couldn't curb her stubbornness, so he covered her body with those normal, pink blankets, not even allowing her head to peak out of the covers, and ate the muffins by himself. He never brought up the topic of the fashion show, that previous happiness now shattered into thousands and thousands of fragments. He came to her apartment like he always did, and just did his homework.

Natsuno never showed up at their regular meeting place either. It was just Haru now, who sat there at that two seated table, waiting for a person who might not ever come again. The apparition who _did _haunt his mind however was covered with bruises and burns and blood, a haunting that questioned Haru why he didn't do more to help this being called Natsuno, why he didn't stay by his wounded companion's side. _Weren't you both friends? _the ghost howled menacingly, and always with that sneer tugging away at his lips.

Haru put his head down, the bile rising in his throat. He knew he didn't want another hearth to be broken, broken by the unusual circumstances surrounding the fires and the killings and Megumi's odd documents which lounged from the tip of her fingers. He didn't want another family separated by strange circumstances, circumstances that resulted in Megumi's coming home late with that weird, iron smell on her, a smell that reminded him of his own bloody outings within his own home.

Some part of him knew that the fires had something to do with Natsuno, as well as Megumi, but he never had the courage to bring it up. Perhaps his world was already so fragile that he decided not to dwell on it; after all, Haru knew that if he strayed to close, his newfound friends would disappear from his sight. They'd vanish, nothing but a stray breeze in the wind, oblivious to anything and everything around it, enslaved by time and its many, many years.

By the end of the school day, the sun had begun setting, and Haru started packing away his books, when a familiar person stopped at the frame of the door. Haru narrowed his eyes and stood, readying himself for any insults.

"Freak," Ken said softly.

"Jerk." Haru retorted. Hastily, he zipped up his bag and threw it around his shoulders. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was going to leave, if not for the fact Ken continued blocking the doorway. Haru never looked at his former tormentor, his eyes fixated on the wall in front of him. "You're in my way."

Ken crossed his arms. "Maybe you're in my way."

"Beat it," Haru said, shoving the boy with his elbow. The touch assured Haru he wasn't floating; the boy in front of him was real. Afterwards, Haru walked away, never really bothering to turn back to the frustrated teen.

Haru barely made it out of the campus when he saw a silhouette leaning against the iron gates. A nostalgic glow surrounded his frame, the dim skies emphasizing his strange, amethyst beauty. He was wearing a black, short jacket over his glistening white shirt, and the evening grazed his skin, taking in all its flawlessness. It seemed to, in fact, be drinking itself to death, though the man never moved. As Haru drew closer, the figure turned, his once trivial, light eyes now only that of a shadowy dark, a dark that experienced many, many unfortunate pains.

Natsuno.

* * *

By the time Natsuno came to, that hellish pain was gone. He felt wonderful, as though the poison that plagued him so effortlessly was now disintegrating underneath his veins. He blinked in confusion, and though relief clouded his mind, his eyes sharpened when he felt the familiar taste of blood in his mouth.

And then he found Shimizu's limp body on the floor.

He sprang away, his tongue touching the tips of his fangs.

He was in a daze. He didn't know what had happened. The last thing he remembered was passing out in the hospital. He felt the heat tearing apart his body, the stinging pain of the embers. All the blood in his body was pouring out of his system, leaving him to starve. He remembered his father there, lying beside him. He remembered all his instincts screaming out to him, ordering him to take the prey as his next meal, though he had little hopes of surviving that night. He remembered the burning, the crimson bestowing on him a cascade of red and black, as he succumbed to his mind's despairing wishes.

His hand came to his head, as he force his brain to recapitulate the moments that never existed. A failure, obviously. Warily, he stood, gazing down at Shimizu. In a way she looked like she was only sleeping; no one could have guessed her true, violent nature, even if he were to tell them ten thousand times.

There was no doubt she was still alive; he could tell. He'd taken a lot of blood, he knew that, but Natsuno also knew that it took more than _that _to kill her. That red dress was still on her, still pristine in its ruinous fashion. Her stockings, however, were ripped and destroyed, the expensive looking fabrics now torn to pieces. She'd lost her hair clip in the fire, so her strands were messily splayed all over the ground, with a tiny tinge of black covering the tips of her bangs.

Natsuno slowly surveyed the room, though his mind was somewhere else. Why? was all it asked. What was Shimizu doing at that hospital? Why was she holding his father like that? No, moreover, what was his dad even _doing _at that hospital? Daiki never really asked Natsuno to come…much…

Daiki.

Aito.

Natsuno backed away from Shimizu, until, eventually, he hit a table, a table which housed police reports and maps and receipts.

That's right…

The image of their heads were still ripe in Natsuno's mind. Their eyes, their veins, everything spilled out before him. Their screams and pleas rang through his ears, along with those horrific eyes which pleaded for an already forsaken future. There was no trace of that ill will left, none of that guilty pleasure when he wanted to watch them writhing in front of him, with little care of who saw him. For when his lust was finally satisfied, they were burning.

They were both burning.

And then he followed Shimizu.

Natsuno straightened himself, his finger moving toward his mouth. Shimizu's blood…he'd been drinking that _murderer's _blood…

Just how depraved was he?

And _what _exactly had he been _doing? _

He stared at the shiki's lifeless corpse, the portrayal searing its way into his mind. His eyes slowly turned to the bloody couch nearby, a couch that probably carried his injured body. His dark pupils stalked their way to the unlocked door, a tiny crack peaking out from the sides.

And then he left.

Natsuno never went far. He shifted through the ruins of Shinjuku, he walked through the ashes of Bethlehem Hospital. He was never really attached to Daiki's group, frankly speaking; it was more like a dependence. It was like a dream Natsuno had to inhale, an impossible ideal in which he already became its hopeless addict. He degraded himself not for progress, or for the sake of allowing humans and shiki to compromise, but for a mere idea.

An idea that was now dead to him.

At times, he even went to the cafe at night, where he just sat there, observing the people who passed him. They never looked his way, never even noticed him there. There was the occasional uncomfortable laughter, but all in all, no one saw him. Natsuno was invisible, in his own little way.

He took his time, wandering about, trying to come up with a suitable solution to this mess. His brain never focused on Daiki or Aito anymore; he's already heard the news. Both the tunnels and the hospital burned; it was highly unlikely that anyone survived, much less a stray anti-hero who thought they could avenge their murdered comrades. Instead, he focused on another person, then another, then another, before at last, he came to Mr. Yuuki.

Natsuno knew he saw his father there, at the hospital. As Natsuno thought back, the image became clearer and clearer; his dad looked like he was residing there for quite some time, so it was plausible that he was living here, in Tokyo. He remembered his father's brief period of insanity, and debated on moving away so that he could recover.

But then Haru crossed his mind.

And in those thoughts, Megumi as well.

And it was those thoughts that brought him here, to Haru's school.

It was quite easy; he remembered Megumi's merciless scent, and so he only had to follow its faintest trace to see Haru, behind the window. He looked as though he were daydreaming rather than listening to the teacher. Through the glass, the teacher had been writing an erroneous way of doing the problem. The poor man was already being scolded by his students, and it wasn't before long that Haru was singled out for his insults.

Natsuno decided to walk away from the scene.

The options still pressed his mind, even when he sensed Haru's presence near. The evening was beginning to overtake the skies, though the stubborn sun still refused to go down. He smirked at the amusing display; in all honesty, it reminded Natsuno of himself. He couldn't let go of anything, not even a simple desire.

He turned, and found Haru standing there, mouth slightly agape.

"Haru," Natsuno said emptily, "shouldn't you be in school?"

"Ah…class…just ended," Haru replied.

"I see."

"H-how are you?" The stammering problem had, unfortunately, never gone away.

"I'm fine."

A beaming smile breaking out from his face, then it was replaced by a slightly concerned expression, then followed by an angered frown. Natsuno flinched at the sight.

The boy rushed over to Natsuno's side, fists clenched, pulses rapid, as he confronted the jinrou about his apparently reckless behavior. "What's wrong with you?!" Haru immediately began screaming. "Megumi practically _carried you-"_

_"_You_…you saw that…"_

_"_Dude_, you were bleeding." _As Haru continued his rant, Natsuno tugged at his sleeves tightly, carefully separating the facts from Haru's over-exaggeration, as he pieced together the scene. In truth, it wasn't at all what Natsuno thought it to be.

He automatically narrowed his eyes and gripped his sides, aware of the new predicament. Haru talked about Megumi so familiarly, and he probably at that apartment when she carried him in.

So _that _was why Haru smelled like her.

If this was a joke, personally, Natsuno hated the punchline.

"How long have you known her?" he interrogated.

"What? What does that have to do with-"

"Haru," Natsuno said again. "How _long _have you known Megumi?"

Haru glared at Natsuno, and Natsuno gladly returned the expression. The two stood there unflinchingly, attempting to stare each other down with any sort of intimidation. Of course, Natsuno never engaged with Haru's mental instability, nor did he nurture the boy's inconsistent worries. It was an adult matter, a situation Haru couldn't even begin to comprehend. But finally, Haru answered with all his pigheadedness. "I met her a few months back," he said begrudgingly.

"How?"

"She…she saved me from killing myself."

Natsuno felt his emotions unravel, though his expression remained completely placid. For a while, his mind was completely blank, his thoughts trying to warp around the idea of Megumi saving anyone but herself. She was completely self-centered; she never liked being with anyone, and she always followed him around like a love-sick puppy, expecting him to return her affections fully. Probably the only thing they had in common was getting out of Sotoba, and by now, even that connection had evaporated.

So just hearing that she rescued someone was a bit extraordinary.

Haru turned away. "Yeah, I know what you're gonna say," he stated distastefully. "I mean, I'm supposed to be the guy, right? And yeah, maybe I am using her as an emotional crutch. But…but I feel _happy _when I'm around her…and I know I'm depending on her way too much, but…but I'll find a way! I'll-"

"Haru," Natsuno interrupted. "Your mental issues aren't the problem here."

"And what'd you mean by how _long _have I known her?" Haru pressed. "How do _you_ know her anyways?"

"We…we weren't exactly friends," Natsuno muttered, recalling the times he had to close his windows, how he had to turn away whenever she came up to him with that annoyingly cheerful voice, how she callously decided to simply kill him, just to ensure that her pretend boyfriend wouldn't get close to anyone else.

It was that Shimizu Natsuno hated the most.

And it was that very same Shimizu Haru was getting too affectionate with. Natsuno turned his eyes slightly away from the boy; the sun had already set. "Haru."

"What?" he asked, the frustration still permeating from his voice.

"Do you really like Megumi?"

Haru blinked. "Y-yeah, of course I do! I mean, I like you too, but that's a different like, and it's not like I prefer her over you or anything like that-"

Natsuno never listened after that. He simply told Haru to stay away from Shimizu for a few days, then walked away.


	20. Chapter 20

For Yuki, hell began when that _bitch_ arrived.

Kaori Tanaka had been a thorn to her side ever since she first showed her ugly-ass faced at Yuki's school. When Yuki met her, the girl thought the supposed new student was a homeless person, perhaps a fallen aristocrat who thought she could wander into Yuki's life and steal everything from her. Those childish ponytails, her drab sense of fashion, the sweat on her body that made her white blouse cling to her skin; in most ways, the girl was even more revealing than Yuki ever was. She didn't know she attracted nearly half the attention of the male class. What's more, she even found Ken staring at the new girl all day, with that annoying, goofy smile on his face.

Yuki remembered feeling a very peculiar pain in her chest that day, a pain she never thought she would experience.

From then on, Kaori Tanaka had claimed everyone's eyes. Personally, Yuki never saw the appeal. She was always so timid, hiding behind her textbooks and studying her ass off like there was no tomorrow. She barely ever talked with anyone, except to answer Kosei-sensei's questions, or to help students with their homework. She had that aura around her, a composure irritated Yuki. And despite Yuki's suspicions, Kaori appeared completely innocent.

Yet at the same time, she wasn't. Kaori was well-behaved, but when Yuki so much as even _looked _at her, she had an entirely different atmosphere surrounding her. The demented light in her eyes embraced her face, as though she were having an orgasm after having suffocated someone to death.

And being from Sotoba never eased Yuki's suspicions.

In fact, that was already grounds for outright persecution.

A few weeks before school had started, Yuki heard a very strange, gruesome tale concerning Tanaka. Her father had just come home from work. He was a police officer, and was working on the Sotoba case for some time now. She remembered how shocked he was one evening, when he described the horrific conditions the bodies were in, as well as the devastation the alleged fire had caused, so much so it was like a "spiral of insanity." He told Yuki, in full detail, what he saw, what he heard, what was going to give him nightmares later on.

At first, when he told his story, Yuki never believed him. The story just seemed too crazy; fangs, stakes, explosions, secret cults… There was even a phrase a few of the survivors told police, that they were simply "getting rid of the pests." The whole thing was just too frightening, too unrealistic, Yuki didn't think such a thing could happen in real life. Even if it was isolated, there was no way some village out in the woods would regress so severely. This wasn't some horror movie.

Then he showed her the photos.

Yuki remembered everything from that moment. The bodies, the heads, their wide, fearful eyes, as Death bestowed upon them their inevitable, violent ends. There were fangs protruding from the roofs of their mouths, and bits of organ were lodged between the teeth. In all honesty, when she saw the skin peeling away from their flesh, the bones of black blood exposed, she felt like throwing up. As she recalled, there were a lot of body bags, with many people carrying the same symptoms of a certain disease, a disease the forensic researchers are still trying to decipher. A lot of knives and guns were buried underground, with the unused bullets sleeping away the time, just waiting for new masters to come get them. What's more, there were scratches on the interior of the bags, meaning someone was clawing at it from the inside.

"Were they buried alive?"

"Yes, sweetheart." Her father whispered. "I think they were."

Yuki will always regret asking that question.

So when she heard that Kaori Tanaka would be coming, a girl who survived the incident, a girl who probably saw it all, heard it all, a savage who had turned on her own companions, Yuki just had to give her an exceedingly warm welcome.

Frankly, Yuki was frightened by this new phenomenon. She didn't know what to do, what to say, how to react. She knew that there was some…_chance _that Kaori brought those experiences to school, and it was more than likely she might just act on the impulses her father suspected her of having. Already, theories were forming in Yuki's mind about the girl.

She was a murderess, who instigated the annihilation of an entire village without anyone knowing. She was a witch, who had a dozen familiars around her, just waiting to do her bidding. Or, as her father called it, she was a "vampire", who fed on the unfortunate victims, all of whom were kind enough to allow her inside their houses.

Yuki let those thoughts consume her, never once allowing herself to let her guard down. She merely shut her mouth, clutched Ken tightly, shielded her friends away from her, protected the entire class, and attempted to get Kaori to leave.

Yet no matter how hard she tried, Kaori stayed.

Or rather, she was unfazed. Sure, she cried, she grunted, she screamed, but never once did she complain to the teacher. She squirmed under the tight grip of Yuki, and at times, she asked for Yuki to let go…but she never reported any of it. Even after everyone joined in on their metaphorical purge, Kaori never gave them the delight of transferring. And months of merciless bullying, it was pretty clear to everyone that the witch of Sotoba was staying.

But that wasn't the root of Yuki's problems.

Days after the class left Kaori alone did Yuki finally catch Ken's strange behavior. Lately, he'd been staring at her with those solemn eyes, eyes Yuki thought were trained on her. He neither laughed nor talked when Kaori was around, and he didn't even fondle Yuki the way he used to. He always seemed to be deep in thought, analyzing Kaori's face with the utmost intensity; the lines in her face, the shadows underneath, whether it be from bruises or sleep deprivation, were all under his scrutiny. He didn't ogle her body the way he did with Yuki. Instead, he remained steadfast, and only examined her face. Even when Yuki was sitting on his lap, cleavage obviously shown, with miniskirts that barely covered her underwear, Ken paid no mind to his temptress.

The weirdness escalated quickly, to the point the Yuki found herself stalking her own boyfriend. She would never allow him out of her sight, however hard he may involuntarily try. She would always see him retreating inside bookstore, which was strange, considering reading was never a likable hobby. No. Ken was simply gazing at it, questioning the clerk about things Yuki could never hope to understand. Sometimes, he would even stop and stare at a local flower shop, which was filled with colorful blossoms and vines; at times, he would buy some roses, other times daffodils, and even still, at night, he would buy other flowers Yuki had never heard of.

She was sorely disappointed when she never received one.

However, she shook it were just for his mom or something; he was always a family guy. Or maybe he was making something, something big, to give to Yuki. He was, after all, always an artist, and because he couldn't afford to be distracted, that's probably why he was ignoring her advances.

Yuki stubbornly clung to this thought, though deep in her heart she knew something was wrong. She didn't want to believe in magic, or spells, or anything that could counteract true love, so she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Then one day, she caught sight of that blue flower sitting on Kaori's seat.

It was torture. Yuki couldn't stand seeing the sight of Ken's enslavement. She hated the way those elegant things lifted that delicious fear away, how Kaori's depression simply vanished with each flower. She wanted to scream, to shout, to hoist that witch on a stake and burn her right in front of Ken. She needed that girl to go away; Ken wasn't happy. He wasn't happy at all. How could he be, when he was forced to buy such ludicrous gifts?

She could still feel her fists clutching her skirts, as the whispers behind her growing momentum. And automatically, she remembered her position; the school was a governed hierarchy, and Yuki had just been forced out. After all, how could it not be scandalous? Ken was treating a _monster _with more love and affection than he ever did with his adoring girlfriend. He kept staring at that _monster_ with those soulful eyes, and never once did he truly harass her.

And soon, the witch of Sotoba was nothing more than a faded memory, never to surface again.

Yuki couldn't understand what was happening. _They _never saw the pictures. _They _never saw the darkness, or the blood, or the grotesque orange that consumed an entire society. _They _ never saw the victims in the body bags, or the scratches inside. _They _never saw Kaori's real face, that of a cold, cruel demon, with a heart of black and a mind of lust.

But how could Yuki expect them to understand? She saw something no one would believe. When they were all just mere inches away, they were still so very far, with disbelieving eyes and hardening hearts.

She was the outcast.

Nowadays, Yuki spent her time in her room, refusing to leave for school, or for the mall, or for any of her former favorite places. She was always sitting in the dark, trying to make sense of it all, of what Kaori could have done with her friends. They would never act that way, Yuki reasoned. They would never abandon her, unless someone forced them to. There was absolutely no way they could hate her.

It was that confusion that led Yuki to interrogate her own father. She needed more evidence. She needed people to see Kaori for who she really was, and as of that moment, her father was the only one who could help her. He's already shown her confidential files, so it shouldn't be a problem. Besides, the whole task force knows about Yuki. Many times, in fact, she's been called in to help out with some investigations, though her roles were minor.

But her father refused.

It didn't matter what Yuki did after that. She cried, she begged, she made dozens of promises she had every intention of keeping (most of them, anyways), but he was steadfast to his decision. He kept his monotone voice, and brushed her requests away. What's more, he had the _audacity _of _apologizing_ to her, for "showing you those things while you were still so young." He confiscated all of those precious, _precious_ documents, and went to work, back turned, resolution settling in his face.

It was by those actions that made Yuki desperate enough to contact someone, anyone, about her problem.

To no avail.

Many psychologists came knocking at her door, asking her if they could come in and give free consultations. Psychiatrists began listing out potential problems, before prescribing a variety of medications for a disease that didn't exist. Babysitters and nurses came by frequently, offering their services to her father to see if they could help care for his "special child." Yuki only had to slam the door to make them go away forever.

It was perhaps the reason why the phone call was so surprising.

Yuki had just started reviewing her story for the umpteenth time. In the past, sometimes, it was so hard to believe Yuki could just rot away in embarrassment, while other times, it was the only explanation that made sense. Yuki bit her lip, relaying the words along her tongue, when that call came. She rolled off her purple plaided bed, and slowly made her way to the obnoxious phone. When she answered, the first thing she heard was, "Meet me at the Yoyogi Park tomorrow at midnight."

Yuki stiffened. "Who the hell is this?"

She received no answer.

So here she was now, cursing herself, as she stood underneath the grassy leaves, as well as the hollow branches which swayed with every pull. The waters in front of her glistened like a mirror which reflected the abyssal skies up ahead. The sole exception to the darkness was the moonlight above, and even then its light was temporal, threatened by the clouds gathering ominously near it. The green leaves were slowly turning, losing their once brilliant, uniform appearance in exchange for a more dirty, feral one. The wind chilled Yuki to the bone, and in that wind, she found herself staring at nothing more than a scene filled with silhouettes. She couldn't see anything, beyond the reach of her arms.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Yuki leaned against the giant tree, the wood rough on the small of her back. She was wearing black shorts today, and a black tank top. She had a big, white jacket on, yet even so, the fabric wasn't enough to help shield her from the cold. Yuki huddled near the shade and closed her eyes.

What a foolish decision. What could she possibly hope to gain by coming here? This was probably just an elaborate hoax. She'd been getting a lot of those prank calls lately.

"Miss Saito, I take it?"

Yuki's eyes sprung open, and looked up at the artificial shadow. She found a tall man with a grey, hooded jacket over him. Raven colored feathers fell to his forehead, with coal-like eyes that made Yuki quiver in anticipation. Like her, he wore a black undershirt, and his black own, jeans were faded. He wore no shoes, and the collar around his neck had a tiny, red spider-lily dangling from the center. The little flower looked so small, so fragile, that Yuki couldn't help but stare at the seemingly harmless ornament. However, when the man cleared his throat, Yuki snapped her attention away from the choker, and narrowed her eyes. "Who's asking?" she replied snidely.

"So I'm right."

Yuki twitched irritatingly. "Look, if it's a confession, don't bother," she said. "My dad's a cop, and I've got a gun-"

"Kaori Tanaka."

The name made Yuki pause mid-sentence. Her past insecurities were suddenly brought up, and at once, she quieted. Uneasily, she made her eyes towards his, and bit her lip. "What do you know about her?"

"She's been a real hindrance, hasn't she?"

Yuki clutched her shorts tightly. "Hindrance…never thought of her that way, but yeah, mostly. Why? What'd you want from her?"

The man smirked, and took one step forward. "Ms. Tanaka has something I need. I would like to interrogate her, if that's alright with you."

"What for?"

"Sotoba."

Yuki raised her eyes. "Are you a reporter or something?"

"You could say that. Do you know where she is?"

"What're you gonna ask her?"

"That's my business."

The man looked scary, in Yuki's opinion. He looked like a stalker, or a killer, ready to make everyone vanish before his sight, leaving behind a pool of blood, which even then vanished into the air, dissolving underneath life's restraints. Who knows? Maybe underneath that coat was a large stock of machetes, just waiting to be used.

The intensity of his eyes, however, shut her will away, and without hesitation, the girl gave him the name of the school, as well as how she came to meet the student known as Kaori Tanaka.

* * *

Megumi leaned against the tall, iron window frame, with cool, melancholic eyes near the horizon. This window, like all the others, was broken, her heels cracking the remaining shards on the floor. The floor she was on wasn't her own, though like the rest of the building, it was abandoned, decaying effortlessly without anyone else knowing. A few papers were scattered here and there, possibly due to her own laziness. The brown mixed with the grey, creating a sort of dungeon to hold the shiki, and for a moment, Megumi couldn't help but feel a bit disenchanted; nothing about this city captivates her anymore, with the exception of its silence.

And what of all the other cities? Weren't they going to end up like this building, all cold and alone?

Still, the rustic environment did create a nostalgic mood for Megumi. She didn't want to admit it, but at times, she found herself staring at the empty blankets, which were now neatly put away underneath the table, as well as the plethora of untouched homework papers lying near her designs. There were no jokes, nothing to pass the time. The pendulum became slower and slower, and eventually, it came to a grinding halt. Everything had been taken care of. Perhaps she could consider moving now.

She revelled in the night air for a bit longer, before closing her eyes and feigning sleep. She sat upon the broad windowsill, hugged her legs to her chest, and put her head between her arms. "You told him to stay away, didn't you?"

"I did."

In an instant, Yuuki appeared, materializing in front of her without the slightest trace of regret or resignation. Even if Megumi opened her eyes, she couldn't tell what Yuuki was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. He betrayed nothing in that lifeless, handsome face of his. He radiated in the midst of the darkness, but for the first time in quite a while, she had no interest in watching his every move. Instead, a kind of sorrow implemented itself in her heart.

What a surprise. She never realized how much she depended on Haru, at least, not until now. "He's already seen you and me." she stated.

"He doesn't know what we are," Yuuki explained, "and that should make things easier."

Slowly, Megumi lifted her head, the pupils in her eyes revealing themselves once again. "Make things easier?"

Yuuki walked across the empty room and leaned against another window frame. He was a few meters away from Megumi. He never met her eyes, and simply crossed his arms. "I fully intend on keeping him in the dark about all of this. You do too, I take it?"

She straightened herself up and placed her hands in her lap. "I'm not going to do anything, if his depression is what you're referring to."

The jinrou scoffed. "Haru thinks you're _human, _Shimizu. He's got a lot of expectations. He _wants _you to do all the things he says you're going to do, even if they're all just delusions waiting to crash and burn." Yuuki narrowed his eyes, as he turned his head, staring directly at Megumi's line of sight. "If you do them, he's going to depend on you more and more, until he thinks he's found a place to belong."

"And what's wrong with that?" Megumi asked hazily. "You know that feeling just as well as I do. No home, no friends, nothing at all-"

"Yet you refuse to do the fashion show." Yuuki stretched out his legs, his right arm falling to the side of the stone, the force of his words distorting Megumi's thoughts. "Did you plan on leaving once you destroyed everything?"

Megumi placed her hand on her forehead, the silence probing her with its hateful persistence. "You really thought I burned everything…for _fun_?"

"No," he answered, causing her to grimace. "They were going to kill me too. And all that talk about humans and shiki living together was probably just a ruse to cover their tracks. That hospital was just there to harvest humans. Right?"

It took Megumi a while before she could say anything. He knew all that. He knew _all _that, yet for some reason, he wasn't happy. "You sound mad." she finally said lamely.

"Irritated."

"That hospital is gone now, and so are the people who are targeting you. You're free to leave, any time you want to-"

Megumi was cut off by his piercing glare, a glare that taunted her to say another word. Her lips slightly parted, the sounds built inside her throat. At last, she looked down, her tiny, slender hands forming fists. She wouldn't cry. She wasn't going to cry. "So why are you still here?" she asked in a small, small whisper.

"You've taken control of the entire police force," he said then, his voice never rising in frustration or anger. But she could tell he was seething; the calm demeanor alone told Megumi all she needed to know. "I saw you with my dad in your arms, half-dead. And to top it off, Haru likes you. You really think I can just leave that alone?"

"I have no intention to-"

"I don't care what you say," Yuuki interrupted. The emotion of his voice seemed to shock him, and he leaned away, stretching his neck to catch a glimpse of the faraway city lights. He closed his eyes in sudden resignation. " I already know that Haru will come looking for you, and it'd be pretty suspicious if one of us just leaves without saying why."

Megumi flinched at the harshness of his tone. "Is he that broken?"

"He is." Then without warning, Yuuki mused, "He looks a bit like Tooru, doesn't he?"

Megumi felt something hot on her cheek. It was hot, and it was salty, so much so she allowed a few strands of her hair to cover her face. She wasn't going to let Yuuki see her like this; the guilt alone was enough to ravage the shiki with humiliation. Her veins grew cold, and in the distant, ghostly moonlight, she heard the subtle, steady, rhythmic pulse in Yuuki's body. The very same pulse she never once heard from Tooru. "He does," she said in a thick voice.

"He told me you saved him from killing himself."

Megumi choked down the sobs, and nodded.

"Why?" Yuuki pressed.

"I was hunting," she confessed, "but didn't feel like using him as bait."

"I find that hard to believe."

She bit the inside of her cheek. Nothing she would say now would make a difference. Yet, at the same time, she wasn't quite ready to give up Haru yet, nor was she ready for that captivating loneliness she envisioned for herself. No matter how much she desired it so, she was never going to get it; all her former dreams and aspirations rested with the human boy that so timidly walked into her life.

"I'm not going to hurt him," she said at last. "And neither will you."

Yuuki's eyes met hers then. The two vampires endeavored digging their way through the black of the holes, a royal blood-like ruby mixing with a pale amethyst. It seemed that in that eternity, they were searching for some weakness in the compromise, some dark hole that could unravel the entire thing together. The past still clung to their brains, as well as the fiery end their old hearth had met, with both hell and purgatory resting over the weight of their bodies.

And finally, after the quiet, they both backed down, and agreed to that compromise. They were both going to stay, for Haru's sake.


	21. Chapter 21

Mr. Hitoshi died.

Mr. Hitoshi had actually died.

Kaori stood there, holding her brother's trembling hand while he sobbed, though he tried so desperately to hold back the tears. Kaori's heart was struck by the same grief which was now tearing apart Akira, but she was surprised that she could spare no tears for the man. No, she didn't hate Mr. Hitoshi. In fact, she was grateful to him; he, along with Ms. Kankoshi, kept careful watch over Mr. Yuuki, and at times, he seemed to have more concern for her caretaker than she did. If it wasn't for this kind man, whose body now lay in that soft, wooden coffin, Kaori might have lost her own will long ago.

The siblings sat there, in the back, with a sea of black covering the entirety of the mundane world, of the grieving friends, family, former patients. Kaori watched them silently as one by one, they all kept going up, giving their testament as to how glad they were to have met Mr. Hitoshi. They were all surprised at how he was so spirited, how he kindhearted and gentle he was; they even elaborated on his wish to help people. He was a loving husband, a wonderful neighbor, a great person who had everything to live for.

"He was so young," was what Kaori kept hearing.

And, as she bowed her head, gripping Akira's hand as tightly as she could, she couldn't help but agree.

After the funeral service, Kaori allowed Akira to walk up to the coffin and examine Mr. Hitoshi's artificial smile. Kaori's eyes bore Akira's back, even as he struggled to make his way to the body; though they were mourners as well, the siblings felt the weight of everyone's eyes on them. They were the youngest here, and within the cruel grips of the adult world, the degrading grownups cast them away, pondering on why such young children were troubled with such a sensitive experience to begin with. Just how did Hitoshi impact their own lives? But that in itself was ludicrous; how could he influence them, when they couldn't possibly understand the pain of losing someone close to you?

Kaori closed her eyes, and remained in her seat. She leaned back, allowing the hostile atmosphere to build. She couldn't deal with a thing as troublesome as that; her own mental health was beginning to deteriorate rapidly. She felt older somehow, even as she observed the mourners' arrogance. Even from here, she could hear their biting words.

Oh, the irony; how similar the city was to the country. Even now, in front of such a wonderful person, a person who's farewell was all but forgotten… they still gossip, like it's nothing.

She felt a small nudge on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, and slowly looked up, finding none other than officer Saito, who was staring down at her with empathetic eyes.

From what Kaori could tell, he was in his forties, late fifties. The stress of his job showed in his sleek, black hair, and his tan skin was a result of all the pointless chasing underneath the hot, summer sun. He wasn't in his regular uniform. No, that was much to inappropriate. Instead, a black tuxedo decorated his exterior, and in the breast pocket, Kaori could see the gold tint of his badge. What an odd man he was; he looked so out of place, even more so than the siblings, though he was an adult.

"Thank you for coming," Kaori managed to muster. "It must be weird though, coming to a funeral for a stranger though…"

The officer shook his head. "No. I knew Hitoshi. He was a good friend of mine; we actually went to the same high school together."

Kaori blinked, then turned back to the coffin. Her eyes wandered a little more, then settled on the young, quivering boy. There Akira was, his shoulders violently shaking, unable to do anything, except to silently beg the nurse to stop playing around, to laugh it all off and apologize to the crowds. "You two were close," she said softly.

"The guy was always laughing," Saito replied. Carefully, he set himself down in a seat, a foot away from Kaori. He leaned forward, the years of experience gaining momentum. There was an uncomfortable quiet between the two, as they watched the seconds idly passing them by. The golden light forsook the colors of the trees outside, and already, the deadness was beginning to show. The coolness of the wind managed to make its way into the room, but no one complained. They all greeted it, those three characters, letting go of a youth that had ceased to bring them any joy at all.

Finally, Kaori heard something. She tilted her head sideways, but she never looked at Saito-san. "Come again?"

"Thank you," the man repeated, a bit louder this time. He wrung his hands painfully, and hesitation permeated his frame, but he kept going. "When we first got his body, he was so mangled we didn't know who it was. We brought it a lot of people, but no one could recognize him. So…thank you."

"Saito-san," Kaori began, the sadness evident in her voice. Her mind wasn't thinking of anything in particular. Her thoughts kept trailing from subject to subject, never lingering on one topic for too long. "When you called us, we were so scared that it was going to be Mr. Yuuki."

Saito blinked, turning his head toward the girl. She felt his eyes widen, but he made no move to comfort her. He merely listened.

Kaori heard the familiar touch of tears fall to her knuckles, but she stared ahead. "I prayed that it wouldn't be Mr. Yuuki. I wanted it to be someone else…"

"I see," Saito said with humble resignation.

"…did I…kill…?"

"No. No you didn't," the officer answered tiredly. He rubbed his temples, as if trying to grasp the events of the day. "It was all just an accident. Mr. Hitoshi died from anemia. He was always a troublemaker, but he's in a better place now. It's not your fault, Miss Tanaka."

It took a lot of effort just to nod.

The bile rose in her throat. Even when Saito walked away, his contact information in her already weakening fingers, Kaori still sat there, mesmerized by how quickly Death had come. It came…like a the chimes in a bell, its sounds numerous but never heard, subtle, and yet so subtle even the wind never notices it. The chimes were so beautiful too.

Kaori could never erase the disturbing images from her mind that day. Somehow, she knew, she _knew _that it was Mr. Hitoshi was lying there, on that metallic, hellish autopsy table. His skin was burnt away, blackened by the unknown fires, and his veins were filled with red and orange, as it greedily ate the oxygen around it. The embers were glowing within the opening of his wounds, and the bones that once gave the nurse his physical strength were now reduced to little more than brittle twigs, melting away at the denaturing of its precious proteins. There were a few parasites in the wounds, but other than that, the scientists did everything they could to keep the body clean.

What Kaori remembered most was his face.

His eyes sockets were wide and cracked, all the fluid in his eyes evaporated within the air. His mouth was open, as if screaming in terror at some unknown thing. The gums were all bleeding, which, of course, made it hard to see, but even then Kaori could tell that there was no tongue. There were no teeth either, and even the insides of his cheek was all scarred, like he'd been endeavoring to chew away his anxieties. How very strange; Mr. Hitoshi was always so confident, especially when it came to his patients. His face was bashed in, and there were numerous fractures in his skull. Even before the fire, it seems that he'd been dead for quite a while.

Kaori stood up as Akira made his way back to her, the darkness in his eyes. The girl took his hand gently, and gave tried giving him a reassuring smile. "Mr. Yuuki is waiting for us," she whispered, before turning around and leading him away from the body.

But Akira wouldn't move.

Kaori looked back at her little brother. Why was he acting this way? Mr. Hitoshi was in a better place now, like Saito-san said, and besides, Mr. Yuuki needed them right now. Though he's doing better now, and he's even regained consciousness, he was still really weak. They had to be there before the staff throws them out again.

Yet he held fast to his stubbornness. "Hey, sis," Akira started. "Come with me for a sec."

"What? Akira-"

He took her right to Mr. Hitoshi.

Kaori flinched at the sight. The stithies that pieced together his skin was gruesome, and even now, there was still a clear fluid that escaped from the skin. His face was swollen and horrific, and it contrasted so much from the slender, athletic face he had before. His hair was skillfully groomed back, and though it exposed a majority of his injuries, the white robe covered his body, which spared Kaori of looking at any more.

There was one sight that caught Kaori's attention, however.

He had two clear fang marks on the nape of his neck.

* * *

"Haru, hold still."

"Stop yanking the freaking needle!"

Megumi sighed, and looked frustratedly at the young boy. The clear, grey fabric kept fleeing from the iron grip of her fingers. Whenever she did succeed in holding it still, she would always hear an imaginary rip coming from the seams. Perhaps it was her anxious nervousness getting the better of her, her rampant, perfectionist self trying to situate the elements correctly in all its fragile balance.

The design was extremely elegant; black spider lilies covered the veil, and underneath the see-through material, Megumi had placed a thick, heavy bodice, in order to give off the illusion of a train. However disturbing it may look, at this point, the shiki could say she was quite proud of how it turned out.

And it was that pride which gave Haru his pains.

In the span of two days, Megumi had finished a Victorian outfit, created specifically for the boy. There was a skull brooch placed neatly on his throat, with a single, black ribbon placed at the center. He wore a flowing, black jacket, which was tattered along the sleeves and hems, and was held together by three silver chains, all meeting at one point to the right of the breast pocket. The sleeves were slightly puffed, and the jacket itself carried a graceless design, one filled with feathers and bones. Haru had on a dark green, plaid shirt, one that embraced his thin frame. The lower end was cut to expose a bit of his abdomen, and his ripped black jeans emphasized his scrawniness, though the outfit complimented him completely. If anything, Megumi had managed to make him look more metallic than dark. However, the now elongated train was attached to the back, providing a basis to which the design was inspired.

A combination of ancient and modern times. The idea was cliche, but Megumi had to admit that this was the closest thing she could come up with to a male version of the original design.

Haru fidgeted, which earned him a scold from Megumi. "You can take it off later," she hissed, "but right now, I need you to hold still. I have to fix your sleeves."

He groaned. "You've done that a hundred times now."

"I want everything to be perfect," she retorted. "Besides, it wasn't my fault I won the competition." Another peculiar thought occurred to her. "They've got to be pretty desperate if they're willing to take me on."

He chuckled. "They just want something different. That's all."

"Hmm." With that, Megumi continued her work. Her eyes narrowed at a stray stitch, one that seemed to laugh at the clumsiness of her mistakes, she but kept moving. The judges weren't likely to notice something as small as that. The sleeves were a bit too ethereal for her tastes, so she grabbed her scissors and began fixing the cuffs. After a few minutes, she sat back and admired her work.

It'd been three days since she last conversed with Yuuki, the words from that night still ringing in her head. The two held up their end of the agreement and kept Haru close in sight, Natsuno during the day, Megumi at night. Many times over, Haru would say he was happy that his "friend" trusted him so readily, and for a while, Megumi almost believed him. Yet, at the same time, she sensed Natsuno's presence nearby, observing their movements carefully. Most likely he was on the roof of the building, separating every word from her voice, every gesture that might give her away. He'd get alarmed whenever a single drop of blood touched the ground, but Megumi made no move toward it; usually, when Haru came, she made sure to feed the night before.

The guilt she felt that time also helped drag her down, even as she distracted herself with the upcoming fashion show. For hours on end, she'd wonder at the wretched feeling. She often found herself staring at nothing, as her brain wracked for an answer to some impossible question.

Was there any use for the remorse though?

She turned, and found Haru, once again, fumbling with his costume. She leaned against the table and crossed her arms. "Walk," she ordered, and he did just that.

Much to Megumi's relief, Haru seemed to be enjoying himself, as he peered shyly at the enchanting quality of the darkness of his design. If not for the idiotic grin on his face, he would have been able to pass himself off as a professional model. She took a deep breath, and sat on the table. "Good?"

"I've…I like this one," he said.

She nodded. "The fashion show is this Thursday, right?"

"I still can't believe it only took you two days to make this." The boy marveled at his costume once more, feeling the train between his palms. "It's so…refined."

"Yeah. That's what I was aiming for. I'll have the female costume finished by Wednesday then."

"There are a lot of girls at my school who would like to model for you."

Megumi scoffed at the notion. By now, Haru's already told her everything. "They all think I'm a guy, so I'd rather not deal with their tears."

She reached down to the needles. She put away the pretend knives and wrapped up the lace and silk. She folded away the remaining seams and ribbons, when she heard Haru asking about Natsuno. She never turned, and concentrated on the metal pieces that lay in the rug. "What about him?"

"What…happened, between you two?"

Megumi froze for a brief second. Even when she began moving again, her mind was scattered. "What did he tell you, exactly?"

"That you two weren't the best of friends."

She felt herself relax, and returned to what she was doing. She ignored the jabs near the chambers of her already aching heart. But she shook it away. It was better if she got rid of that emotion. "That's true. We weren't."

"Did you know each other well?"

"N-not really," she answered, as she set the box on the table. "A lot of things happened, and we got caught in the middle of it. You shouldn't worry about it."

"O-oh." Haru lapsed in his awkward thoughts for a moment. Megumi closed the box, and went to the couch to recline. She kicked her legs up, and leaned her head back. She still felt Haru's eyes on her, and her pupils slid to meet his. He suddenly looked away, his cheeks carrying that familiar shade of red Megumi knew too well. "It just seemed like it was a bit more serious than that."

Megumi smirked. "Like I said; it's nothing you need to worry about." She turned her head. "Now, put on the hat I made for you. It ties the whole thing together."

For some odd reason, Haru was depressed after that moment.


	22. Chapter 22

Haru hated coming back.

The reason why he had to was because the day before, his stepfather demanded that he return today without another word. He was not to go out again with his "dirty little bitch" for as long as he was alive. It didn't help either that his failure of a mother agreed to the order, with her latest sex toy in hand. Though Haru disregarded the man's words completely, due to the implied threat in his tone, Haru decided not to encourage the alcoholic's already sour mood, and decided to obey the command.

Once.

Haru dreaded the afternoon, so much so he began ranting on and on about his situation to Natsuno, if only for a second or so. He was grateful when Natsuno changed the subject, but from the look on his face, Haru knew the strange boy wanted to press for details. Even after all their joking, Haru just didn't feel like going back to school to help seek out any models for Megumi as he usually did. He probably didn't even need to; he saw a sign-up sheet for some model competition just as he was leaving the campus.

When the sun had gotten a bit lower, and the breeze blew a little harder, Haru left Natsuno at the cafe. The lone lights seemed to lose hold of Haru, while the shadows of the city clawed at at his body, its own twisted fingers pointing him in the direction of where he needed to go. The tall skyscrapers relayed to Haru its steel-like promise, beckoning him, daring him to let both black and white in, without as much as a care in the world. The red skies above reminded him of some nostalgic ending, an ending Haru wanted no part of. It appeared so bloody, so sorrowful, as it reminded him of his archaic depression, a darkness that was still lingering inside of him; though it was fading, Haru didn't need much effort to dig within the contents of his heart to find it there, shivering in a lone, cold corner, asking for him to let it back in.

What foolish thoughts they turned out to be.

Haru's heels dragged across the cement. As the cafe gradually drowned in the sea of people behind him, he found himself slowing down, until at last, someone had to push him just to move. His eyes twitched in annoyance. Who did they think they were? Didn't they see the expression on his face? Didn't they realize he only wanted to stand there, thinking of nothing, leaving eternity to do what it will with him?

Then he sighed. It was no use; the crowds were consumed by their own problems. As Haru resumed his original pace, his feet reluctantly moving again, the mob didn't really seem to be thinking at all. Their eyes were muddled by thoughts, lusts, wishes, something Natsuno found very amusing. "If someone's really scatter-brained," he once told Haru, "their eyes won't be very clear. You can't see their true intent."

"You know someone like that?"

"Yeah. You remind me of him."

Haru replayed those conversations over and over again. Both Natsuno and Megumi's eyes softened whenever they looked at him, yet that was the first time Haru picked up any hint of another person in their lives. Immediately, Haru wanted to ask questions. Although he never brought up his curiosity (he never really was rude), their expressions pounded against his skull, screaming at him for being such an utter fool. Yes, it did occur to him that this person might be why Megumi and Natsuno drifted so far apart. Perhaps it was that very same person that once held the two together. After all, Haru didn't believe a word Natsuno said about the two's current situation, or their past, for that matter.

But he couldn't get Megumi to disclose anything either. Especially now, since the excuses she offered were, "Next time," or "later; I'm kind of busy." Then she would change the topic entirely, and happily show Haru the progress she's made on the outfits. Since then, he was left with that confusion.

Well, to be perfectly fair, he did wish for mundane problems such as these. The drama, the chaotic emotions, the hopeless directions many normal people would be suffering from at this point in their lives…but he didn't find these conflicts amusing. In fact, Haru would rather have Megumi stab him with her sowing needles, or Natsuno dump a gallon of gasoline on him and set him on fire, than deal with any of this. The whole mess just seemed…too complicated; one wrong move and Haru would set off a minefield of obsession or hatred or jealousy…or anything pertaining to love.

Haru was so consumed by these thoughts he nearly missed his apartment.

There was a dead garden at the front of the complex, which housed a pathetic variety of dead roses and rotten vegetables. Mangled weeds grew everywhere, and kudzu vines were starting to overtake the east side of the building. Thorns decorated the fences from every side, so much so Haru found it quite difficult to navigate his way through the once clear path. Cigars and empty beer bottles were littered across the lawn, and if Haru squinted just a bit more, there was an array of bras and underwea hidden behind the vines, a testament to the numerous amount of prostitutes that came by every night. The stockings choked the otherwise healthy plants, and from a distance, the clothing appeared more like parasites than anything else.

The filthy building was crumbling away, and that dirty, brown paint peeled from the stained walls. The wooden stairs were on his left, and as usual, were being eaten away by termites and baby maggots, most of which were on the sides of the railings. The roof had holes in it, and the tiles were about to come off any day now; the nails used to hold the makeshift covering down were starting to rust. The balcony looked like it was about to fall off, and when Haru stole a glance to the right, he saw a freshly new red, which he hoped was paint, on the side of the door. A man was lying in front of that stain, dashing Haru's hopes away cruelly. Still, Haru didn't dare venture any closer to the corpse (?), knowing full well what would happen tomorrow.

He walked up to the door and narrowed his eyes. A demented looking angel stared back at him, with its drawn on smile sewn shut. The once soft-looking hair was now chewed up due to the number of attack dogs in the area, and its pure, white cloths were now a mix of brown, black, and red. He bit his lip when he noticed a new defacement to the fallen relic, a small little knife which grazed its chest. He took a deep breath, and opened the ugly, yellow door.

The inside was a wrangled mess, and Haru almost turned his heel to go back to Megumi's. Overdue bills poured from an overflowing trash can, and porn magazines decorated every inch of the walls, with the women's eyes all scratched out. The brown, wooden tiles were covered with some kind of black marker, and a putrid smell rose up from the walls, a scent which vaguely smelled of iron and ash and urine and feces. He found shredded blouses in the corner, covered with a clear liquid Haru was all too familiar with, and grimaced; they did have a bathroom here, right?

Even though he'd been staying at Megumi's for some time now, a surprising majority of his things were still here, things he'd rather _not _be taking to her home. Haru made an effort to ignore the mess, and focused on the man in the center of all of it.

Yasuhiko Asaka.

The way his mutilated body moved was so gruesome Haru almost had to turn away to keep himself from flinching. Asaka had a muscular build, flexing his abdomen whenever his mother was near. There was an abundance of scars on his torso, and the wounds whose stitches were so messily done that Haru could still see some of the internal bleeding. There were scorch marks all over his back, and whenever Asaka tried placing himself in nonexistent sex positions, Haru nearly threw up in agony; it looked more like a freaky circus act than anything else. Besides a pair of boxers, Asaka was virtually wearing nothing, which didn't help the situation any.

Asaka must have heard Haru coming, because no sooner did Haru enter the room did the man turn his head slightly. "You're late," he mused.

Haru looked down, no longer bothered by the irritation Asaka caused him, and resigned himself in defeat not too long ago, all because a certain woman refused to accept her mistakes. He kept telling his mother not to get involved, but she never did take him seriously. All those nights of painful agony, all that screaming, all the humiliation…and she still decided to take_ his_ side in the end. Such was the relationship of an uncaring mother, a mother who almost aborted her child the moment she heard she was pregnant.

For some reason, she never got rid of Haru, even after all the "stress" he caused her.

"Yeah, so what?" Haru snapped. "What'd you want to talk about that was so important?"

"Can't see what my own son is doing?"

"Screw you," he murmured underneath his breath. Haru could easily remembered the day his mother brought Asaka home with her. A majority of her family was involved with the Japanese yakuza, and because Asaka was one of the most feared gangsters in the Tokyo area, it was only natural that she fall for him. Everyone respected Asaka; over the past few years he's raped, murdered, and mutilated more enemies than anyone can count, and he had the entire apartment to show for it. They were all amazed at how he always managed to escape police, and even more still by his proficiency in weaponry. It seemed like killing was second nature to him, and many times over, members had to warn him not to get carried away, else he be cremated alive.

Of course, the threat never bothered him.

So it was an entirely normal response that Asaka laugh sadistically. "I see you're at that rebellious age. Tell me, what'd you think of the place? Cleaned it up yesterday."

Cleaned? Was he _joking? _Haru only had to look around to notice something missing. "Where are my clothes?"

"Threw 'em all out."

"Asaka, those were _my clothes."_

"I' got you new ones," the man concluded proudly. He sat up, the scabs on his skin cracking at the sheer force of his pushing. They cackled loudly, and though a few of the stitches began undoing themselves, Asaka never took notice.

No, that was the wrong phrase, as there was an organismic relief in his eyes. He placed an arm on his knees and stared at Haru playfully. "Thing is, people are starting to ask about you. They want to know what's up with you, when you're gonna join-"

"Forget it." Haru interrupted. "Find some other fool. No way I'm getting into that world."

"Ah, but there's a lot of money to be made from that world." Asaka explained. "How do you think we're able to afford that pad in Azabu?"

"Then why are we living here instead of there?"

"Haru."

Haru rolled his eyes. "By kissing those politicians' butts and doing their bidding." He crossed his arms, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Honestly, I can't say I'm very satisfied with that kind of living."

Asaka adopted a more serious expression then. "It's the family business."

"Strange. Before, you didn't want to have anything to do with me."

There was a pause. The tension built up slowly between the two, and as Asaka's eyes grew darker and darker, his face twisting into something more demonic, more malicious, Haru wanted nothing more than to run. After strangling the atmosphere with his aggressive nature, Asuka decided to reveal his motive. "Someone from the very top asked for you and you personally."

"Like I said," Haru stated vehemently. "I'm not interested."

"Payout's big this time. Two million yen-"

Haru returned his glare. "Look," he said dryly. "If it's that big, get one of your lackeys to do it-"

"He asked for _you." _

"Then tell him I'm not in your _freaking gang, _alright?"

Asaka finally stood, weary of his adopted son's rebellious period. The impatience was evident in his sadistic grin, and those fragile laces, the tiny strings that kept him from bleeding, finally broke loose. The snap made him flinch, as if he had just violated some private, unspoken rule. "_Look," _Asaka whispered frighteningly, "if you're so eager get trampled on, then by all means, _get trampled on. _However, _I will not allow you to ruin your mother's reputation." _

He gripped Haru's collar, and lifted him from the ground. The hard knuckles almost seemed to graze the boy's skin, and his fingernails managed to pierce his throat. Haru gritted his teeth, and instinctively, his body went limp, hoping for the intruder to leave. His legs dangled from the air; he hissed in pain when Asaka forced him back, his spine landing with a heavy _thud _on the sticky walls.

The man smirked. It wasn't long before he walked away without any concern. Haru caught the smirk toying with his lips, as Asaka settled back into his own, perverted position. "Next week, you'll be meeting with the American in Denenchofu. Mom's already got your business suite."

Haru never said anything after that. He simply stood up and walked out, already rummaging through the excuses in his mind about why Megumi should make a new set of clothes for him.

* * *

Natsuno brushed past the police officers with ease, not even bothering to come up with any suitable excuse for being there. No one questioned why what seemed to be a teenage boy was doing there; they simply just accepted the irregular fact, and continued on with their daily routines, returning to cases that resolved themselves long ago, murderers that could never be found amidst the grave of bones. Of course, there were a few concerned staff members, but in general, many people left him alone.

It was moments like these that Natsuno remembered the influence Shimizu exerted.

He only needed to look into their eyes to know that their personalities were inevitably entwined with her orders. Though there was still some light in their normally dead eyes, and there appeared to be a healthy amount of blood in them, Natsuno merely had to brush aside their uncaring facades to extract their disarray, their shifting balances between reality and dream. He could tell what was happening simply by gazing at them with his own, hypnotic eyes, and immediately, he could determine just how much of their intent had been removed. He'd only been watching them for a few days, and he was shocked.

He never thought she'd become that strong.

He was fortunate, then, to be allowed access to the files which the police carried, which were merely lying there, unprotected, on top a desk where anyone could see it. When Natsuno found his way there, he narrowed his eyes and sighed. No wonder.

Natsuno's fingertips briefly touched the edge of the file, and within a second, he began reading its contents. Nothing. He tossed the file away and proceeded to the next one, which had been carefully laid out for him. He gritted his teeth and read through the documents, his eyes briefly scanning the text. Again, nothing.

As he searched furiously through the desk, his past curiosity repeatedly stabbed his heart, prodding for any answers Natsuno could secretly be hiding from himself. It was impossible, of course, yet he clung stubbornly to the notion. Even when he kept muttering to himself, "it's not here, it's not here," he knew it was just a petty lie he made up to keep himself from going insane.

This tumultuous feeling was first aroused when he stepped through the ruins of the Bethlehem Hospital. His memories became clearer, so clear he could finally recall what lay behind the fiery scenes.

He saw the cages, and the needles, and the tubes. He saw the humans running away, trying to get to safety, without even the slightest regard for one another, running each other over with little remorse as they endeavored reaching for the cool night. He saw the crimson engulfing everything in sight, endeavoring to quench its insatiable thirst for any kind of creature, no matter how damned it was. He saw Shimizu, clinging to his half-dead father tightly, like a little child who suffered from a nightmare.

He scoffed at the notion. Little child. What a ludicrous way of thinking.

What got his curiosity however, was the remaining child in the cage, the one Shimizu _didn't_ save, just before he fainted.

Why she didn't save her, he didn't know. As far as he knew, Shimizu carried no ill will towards the child, and judging from her rampant behavior, more than likely the girl's death was an accidental one. The shiki was probably too distracted by his father to notice her. Still, he couldn't help but be a bit suspicious, since that girl seemed to be in the same predicament as everyone else. The fact that she didn't even know the girl when she was saving total strangers caused Natsuno to scrutinize the situation. More than once he asked her about it, and he always got the same reply. "I don't know."

He never was satisfied with that answer, even when he was human.

At last, he came across a picture of a young girl, albeit through a missing person's report, which lay underneath the pile of relevant folders. His eyes widened at the innocence she exuded from the frames; he could make out her naivety, her helplessness and her vulnerabilities.

She had long, blond hair, with big, brown eyes. She was a bit pale, and looked very sick, but she was smiling. And she was young too, only about twelve. According to the annotations in the white margins, the police believed she was abducted by some sick pedophile, and by now, were expecting to find her body dumped along some river. Her name was Amber Fawn.

He combed through the papers, trying to find more information about the girl. That information took the guise of medical files, biographies made by curious secretaries with too much time on their hands. As he shifted from page to page, hesitation began creeping up.

Amber Fawn was an American tourist who had gone missing three years earlier. She was with her father when it happened. She had a plethora of medical problems, which probably explains why police gave up on her being alive only after a couple of weeks; she needed her medications. She had a rare blood disease that made her go to the hospital every month for a transfusion for Rh antibodies. If she missed a dose, her immune system would begin attacking itself, and if she waited too long, her body would just break down altogether. It seems she also had lymphoma, which of course, was always a treat. The cells were already beginning to mutate into something more dangerous, and just before her disappearance, doctors were desperate, giving her old, toxic medications and painkillers. It was all they could do for her.

She was the girl in the cage.

As he recalled, there were tubes hooked up to her. Even as the room was burning, there were machines all around, harvesting the blood they ciphered from the victims. If Daiki and the others decided to use _her, _of all people, that alone was enough to destroy the tunnels.

Natsuno gripped the edges of the folder as he thought back to that humiliating day, of when he realized Shimizu had actually saved him from that poison.

It was more than he could stomach.

Judging from Ms. Fawn's condition though, as well as the forensic reports, the blood wouldn't just be naturally filtered; this was a genetically inherited disease, powerful, recessive. Contaminated blood like that caused a lot of problems for vampires, especially for those who had trouble controlling their appetites. Any natural phenomenon that came with the blood was usually intensified within the corpses, and as a result, the shiki practically crumbles away on its own, without the aid of sunlight or stakes or curses.

But why was Daiki using such a dangerous girl? Natsuno had seen more than enough to know that Daiki or Aito had some sort of expertise in concocting drugs. Had they found some way to purify her blood? Did they develop a cure? Was that why she was able to live as long as she did?

Natsuno heard footsteps behind him, and turned. There was a man standing behind him, with that same, dazed look on his face. With the picture in hand, Natsuno asked the officer to show him the evidence the police had been able to gather so far.

Officer Saito agreed to his request.

* * *

Author's Note;

A very important event in world history, called the "Rape of Nanking" consisted of Japanese soldiers brutally raping and killing women, men, and children in the Chinese providence Manchuria. Approximately 20000 to 80000 women were sexually assaulted that day, with the death tolls anywhere from 200000 to 300000 people. To this day, some strong, Japanese nationalists say that the event never happened at all, though this group is an incredible minority.

The mastermind behind the "Rape of Nanking" however, was Prince Yasuhiko Asaka. Officers interrogated the prince, but he was never brought to trial. Some say American general MacArthur helped the prince, though due to lack of evidence, the statement is highly uncertain. The prince was later stripped of his noble status, and became a simple commoner afterwards.


	23. Chapter 23

Kaori cried when Mr. Yuuki regained consciousness. Love sniffed at her tears, while snuggling next to Mr. Yuuki's bed, all the while trembling with gleeful worry.

Mr. Yuuki was a bit disoriented at first, but after a while, he finally managed greeted them fully, arms open in that warm, fatherly embrace Kaori missed. She ran into it, so much so the nurses almost pulled her back for fear she might break his frail body. Akira, of course, was too manly for hugs, but in the end, he smothered their caretaker with the very same tears.

The siblings relayed to him everything trivial that had been going on in their lives. Kaori had recently gotten a part time job working at a local animal shelter, and Akira had behaved as he usually did, sleeping during class and forgetting to turn in overdo homework. Yes, they'd been eating well. Yes, they were going to bed on time. Yes, they'd been attending all of their classes, though at times, Kaori didn't even feel like going. Neither of them mentioned, however, the Bethlehem Hospital, and treated it as if it never existed. Thankfully, Mr. Yuuki never questioned them on this either.

After hours of visitation, the nurses asked the siblings to leave so that the elderly man could rest. With a sad smile, he bid them farewell, promising he'd be back as soon as he could. However desperate Kaori was, she took his word on it. So she grabbed Love, and hauled Akira out of the room, a still exuberant grin on her face.

When they were out of the hospital, Kaori put Love down and continued their walk, the tiny dog already tugging at his leash. Their house wasn't far from here, only a few miles actually. At the least, the distance more tolerable, and the very fact that Mr. Yuuki would be cared for by a federal hospital was alone more than satisfactory. A strange sense of relief washed over Kaori, knowing now that Mr. Yuuki was back in their lives.

"Hey, sis?" Kaori heard ask. It didn't take long for her to guess his thoughts. She closed her eyes, and gripped Love's leash a little tighter.

"You're still worried about what we saw, aren't you?"

"Y-yeah. You think-?"

"I don't know," Kaori replied. "It's possible, but I doubt that's the only cause. I mean, why would they scorch their own food, you know?"

Akira balled his fists. "But it's _them. _They're the ones who burned down the hospital, and they're the ones who killed Mr. Hitoshi. They _followed _us here, Kaori. _They-_"

Kaori rapidly turned to her brother and hushed him. "Keep your voice down!" She whispered violently, sensing the curious gazes of the onlookers ahead of them. When their pupils fled towards the direction of the platinum lights of the shops nearby, she straightened herself. "You know we can't say stuff like that out in public."

"But it's true," Akira snapped.

"Yeah, it probably is. But you know what? We can't focus on that right now," she said quietly. "No one will believe us, and I don't think Mr. Yuuki will even listen to us…considering what happened before."

"But this time's different!" Akira stated proudly. "He's already been through this stuff before! He knows better than anyone-"

"Which is why we can't tell him about it. Mr. Yuuki has been through enough as it is, and I don't want to drag him back into it."

It was one of the first times Akira was truly frustrated with his sister.

* * *

Natsuno dug through the police reports on the table, piecing together bits and bits of information. Stacks of files neatly grazed the table's surface, along with the stray needles and thread that were pushed to the edge. He scratched furiously against the documents, attempting to decipher whatever gibberish the officers so gracefully overlooked, as well as any signs of why they so easily gave up on finding her body. Amber Fawn's picture was sitting next to him with tiny words scrawled across her face.

He's already admitted he was going to have to visit the tunnels, since these unknowing subordinates were so useless. A majority of it was still sealed off, but there was a good chance Shimizu's little fire never reached certain parts of it.

He leaned against the mirror, and sat there, staring into space for quite some time, his eyes blank. To his right was a heavy curtain, who was blocking the nostalgic sun's penetrating rays, the golden skies proclaiming their rule over the earth. There were glass shards hanging from the windowsills, with their eyes observing everything in the room; there were so many of them Natsuno had to wonder at Haru's little fetish. In a small, neat corner, there were dozens and dozens of blankets, which were tightly packed and stashed away. A multitude of pillows sat there dumbly, patiently waiting for someone to snuggle with them. The books concealed a majority of the demands, but the jinrou could still make out a few of the objects.

On the door, Natsuno saw the design Haru had kept bragging about, the outfits Shimizu made specifically for this contest. In all honesty, Natsuno did find himself admiring the complicatedly woven clothes. His eyes would trace the patterns, his mind bringing up a time of some forgotten era, and before he knew it, he was lost in the translation. The fabric was transparent and cloudy at the same time, with the shadows casting away whatever unfortunate light had come into contact with it. They were good, no doubt.

To his left there was a lump on the couch, covered by an array of clothes and blankets, making the girl underneath seem bigger than she was. Occasionally, he could hear Shimizu twitching from time to time. He saw her move a bit, but other than that, she gave no indication she was really alive. Personally, Natsuno would be fine if she just laid there all night; that way, there'd be none of that awkward tension, especially with Haru nearby.

He shuffled through the files once more, skimming through the passages to make sure he didn't miss anything. Natsuno never particularly liked Shimizu, he still found it rude to just steal the documents without saying anything; he wasn't that immature. And because of her behavior towards Haru, Natsuno trusted her not to do anything. Besides which, it's very clear where her priorities lay at the moment, so Natsuno was free to do whatever he wished. Yet, at the same time, Natsuno knew he couldn't just leave things the way they were.

What was Haru to her anyways? After all, Shimizu had displayed her affection for the boy many times, so much so she was willing to move away from Tokyo, just so he could live his own life, however screwed up it was. It didn't matter what Haru thought on the matter, nor were any of Natsuno's words important.

But Natsuno couldn't help but feel the emotions were artificial; if someone was nice to Haru, he would follow them wherever they went. He would delude himself into believing the were his friends, disregarding the reality that was pounding the obvious against his skull. He was just that desperate, though at this point, the boy was starting to think for himself.

Natsuno picked up another paper, and traced through it when he felt his body tense up. He remembered Haru's complaints, about how his stepdad would always go out and pick up another prostitute just for the fun of it, how his mom would refuse to believe anything he said. Natsuno knew how agitated Haru was. The boy was weary of all the gang fights, the brainwashing, the utter foolishness of the entire situation; as far as Haru was concerned, the yakuza was little more than a cult, with crimson its idol. Natsuno could empathize with the boy's situation, and he agreed more than once that Haru should move somewhere else. He didn't necessarily like Haru's present accommodations, but at the very least, he was happy.

So when he saw the name Yasuhiko Asaka as one of Fawn's potential kidnappers, Natsuno narrowed his eyes. Haru was smart enough not to be involved with them, but he couldn't help but wonder if the stepfather talked about anything important at home, bragged about how many women he's raped, how many people he's killed. And if the mother was that much of an idiot to let it slide, perhaps this man was Natsuno's next target.

He was so absorbed with his work he jolted at the repeated hammering at the door.

Natsuno looked up alarmingly, his senses rapidly coming alive. There were two voices behind it, one timid, (Haru's), the other…incredibly loud. A girl, from her high pitch and perfume. He stole another look at Shimizu's ball, which by now, was peacefully off somewhere else in some other far away land. He grimaced at her comfortable situation, and stood up. She always was a heavy sleeper.

He stepped over the fabric and unlocked the door, finding a young, hyperactive girl eating him alive with her eyes. She wore a pink blazer over her school uniform, which gave her an air of pathetic longing. So when he found her practically wearing Haru's arm, trying to look partially seductive, Natsuno couldn't help but feel sorry for his friend. He stared at the pair for some time, before humor overtook him. "Need help?"

Haru returned his sarcasm with an icy glare. His eyes strayed to the couch, and immediately, his glare melted. "What are you doing here?"

"Work," Natsuno answered curtly. He let go of the frame of the door, brushing aside the girl's awestruck look. He wrinkled his nose a little. "Who's she?"

"Oh. This is Yume…apparently. She wants to model one of the dresses."

He never even bothered hiding the disgust in his voice.

Natsuno stepped back to examine the dress. He blinked, and examined at the girl again. She never carried that dark elegance he expected the wearer to have, nor did she seem at all compatible with Haru. If anything, the boy would probably rather be run over by a tractor than spend another moment with "Yume."

Yet he's heard enough to know that by now, Haru was getting desperate. No one was taking him up on his offer, and though there were a lot of girls who wanted to meet the mysterious fashion designer, they were all too scared to jump to the chance. It was perhaps one of the reasons why he couldn't say no to any of her demands. Natsuno gave him a playful smirk. "This is what happens when you wait too long."

"Shut up."

Yume allowed Haru's arm to drop from hers, and automatically, she began walking around the room, her eyes surveying its contents. She moved forth, when her head turning to the glass shards. "So…this is your studio," she began softly. "You made…all this?"

"No. I'm just visiting." Natsuno answered.

"So…you aren't the designer?"

Natsuno was about to open his mouth when Haru beat him to it. "He helps out a lot. He's…sort of like an assistant-"

The shiki jabbed a sharp elbow into Haru's ribs, causing him to double over painfully. "What are you doing?" he hissed sharply, the murmurs never reaching a disappointed Yume, who was at this point, playing with the glass.

The two, however, never had a chance to argue. The bright lights in Yume's eyes returned when she caught sight of the ruffles on the dress. "So, can I do it?" she asked quickly. "I swear I won't get in the way of any of your work!"

Natsuno turned toward the girl. "Look. That's not my call-"

Yet again, Haru dashed away Natsuno's wished. He practically yanked the dress off its hanger and threw it at Yume. "Go outside and get changed," Haru said eagerly. He then proceeded to shove the creature out of the room, shut the door, and call, "When you're done, come inside!"

Natsuno carefully traced her footsteps, ensuring that she never strayed too far. He could already tell she was ready to burst from excitement, and was enthroned by the girl's lack of common sense. The so-called "studio" was in an abandoned arts district, a place where no one dared come at day, let alone at night (he's already caught wind of the rumors). The way she clung to Haru was enough to invite unnecessary trouble. If she was with any other guy, she would surely disappear, and become another name on that long list of missing people. And it was by that logic Natsuno turned to Haru, the vampire attacking that stupid grin of his.

Just _what_ was he thinking?

"What exactly do you hope to achieve by calling me her _assistant?" _was the first question.

"It's just…Megumi seems really down when you aren't there," Haru said firmly. "I don't like seeing her like that."

"Of all…your ludicrous nonsense…"

"Besides," he continued, lowering his voice a little more. He turned his head, making sure Shimizu was, indeed, asleep. "I need someone to help me get her attention. You're my friend, aren't you?"

"I don't like repeating myself," Natsuno replied. "Megumi is someone you don't want to get involved with."

"I like her." Haru answered vehenemently. "What's so bad about her anyways? What happened between you two?"

"You ask your Megumi that same question?"

"Did you both date before?" Haru began to press. "Did she cheat on you? You had a really big fight or something?"

"Listen to when people are trying to talk!"

The day ended with Yume becoming Shimizu's model, and Natsuno. And all the while the source of the predicament slept on, happily drowning in the black.

* * *

There was another substitute again, but Kosei-sensei will be back soon, possibly next week. The man was short, scrawny, but he acted like a tyrant, constantly ordering them to look up at him, making sure he sees their eyes so he knows they "were paying attention." Three times, however, Ken was called out. But he never really apologized; his pupils kept sliding toward that empty chair, the flowers still in his bag, waiting for the chance to be reclaimed again.

Rumors about Tanaka being Kosei-sensei's woman eventually died down. Considering the fact she'd been seen going to and from the hospital every day, there was no way that would happen. A couple of students even caught her working at an animal shelter, playing with the potential candidates, while readying them for adoption. It was impossible for Tanaka to have any time to be anyone's woman, much less sleep around.

Ken was distracted all morning, never once noticing Yuki missing from the entire scene. He, of course, did flock around his usual friends once in a while, but he found himself gazing out the windows, trying to manifesting Tanaka's tiny, vulnerable frame in his mind and projecting onto reality's blank surface. He had no such luck, of course.

He didn't know when it happened, nor did he know why. Perhaps it was how Tanaka kept her graceful air, never giving into Yuki's once entertaining attacks. Or maybe it was how she simply never engaged with anyone, and instead, turned to her own deceives. Or maybe it was how she ran; he usually saw her in the mornings, running with her dog. He had to admit the sweat did look good on her, and the way her stubborn eyes persisted in keeping up with the dog drew his admiration.

Yuki never had the resolve to do such things. In his mind, compared to Tanaka, Yuki was always too emotional, too childish, too idiotic.

Too weak.

Ken grew tired of taunting Tanaka later on, and contented himself with observing her, his eyes analyzing her own for any weaknesses present. There was none. She just kept doing her own thing, like she always did. Once or twice, she would look up, as if noticing at last that someone was staring at her, before dismissing it completely and going back to her mundane activities. She was isolated, but never lonely, and she had goals, strong goals, that made him curious about just what went on in that cute little head of hers. But she was so closed off that it was hard to get intimate with her.

Fortunately, Ken found one way to communicate with her.

He was actually considering writing notes to her as well. He didn't mind if she never answered him, (he'd be incredibly surprised if she did), nor did he mind if she was in love with anyone else (which was questionable). Ever since Yuki disappeared from the school altogether, however, Ken has been finding it harder and harder to stay away from the girl. It got to the point where he even tried asking the freak for help, only to be pushed away once more.

When it was time for lunch, classmates flocked around him, some fangirls, others disposable friends. Ken never could tell the difference between the two, especially when Yuki was around. She would always screw up the boundaries between reality and dreams from then on, acting as if she were the most important thing in the world to him. The display was disgusting really, so much so he'd have to sexually harass her to get her to shut up.

Ken had to wonder if anyone else knew this motive, rather than label him as some sick pervert. Certainly Tanaka wouldn't think of him this way.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned, a beaming Yume staring at him. Ah, that's right. She got to be the model. No doubt a lot of girls were jealous at the moment, and to her recognizable stupidity, Yume kept flaunting her good fortune, showing off her curves whenever she could, squealing whenever a guy was a foot behind her as if he were trying to look at her underwear. She was always around Yuki, worshiping her like some goddess, but how shallow that devotion.

"Hey Ken!" she roared, trying to impress her will on the already irritated voices in the classroom. "There's a guy here to see you! He's in class 2-C!"

Ken stood reluctantly, and awkwardly shifted away from his group. He could feel their eyes on him, trying to get him to look back, to say something, anything to them. It was such a disappointment; sadly, Ken just didn't feel that way about them. He was never into drama like that, nor was he going to waste time on those chaotic things called emotions. That was for girls.

He walked away from the classroom, and turned the corner. One by one, faint trickles of students kept evaporating, making their way to their friends or teacher, until at last, not one person was in sight. Ken came to the corridor, an old rusted one that was badly in need of renovation. He opened the door and found a student standing there.

Black hair, black eyes, friendly-looking, a normal guy. At least, a lot friendlier than most of the kids here. Ken never remembered seeing him him before, but ignored the sharp jab and leaned against the wall, a bored expression plastered on his face. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," the guy said happily. "You're Saito's ex, right?"

Ken brushed his bangs aside. He felt his muscles tense, his senses hyperactive. "Yeah. What of it?"

"I was wondering if you knew someone named Haru Yasuhiko?"

The freak? Ken folded his arms to his chest and stood up. "What about him?"

The boy placed a contemplating finger underneath his lips. "I was just hoping you could tell me a bit about him. He's become a bit popular lately, so I was just curious."

"Yasuhiko is nothing more than an idiot," Ken dismissed. "He's a bastard who doesn't know right from wrong. He's naive, stupid, and can't seem to leave anyone alone. There. Can I go now?"

The student blinked, the silence creeping up on his skin, before finally, he snickered. "You don't really like him, do you?"

Ken sighed. "I'm not really the gossip type." He turned his heel and started toward the doors. Was that all that guy called him out here for? For a moment, Ken thought it was something serious, like a fight, or Yuki had come back to school again to demand his love. That type of thing wasn't really uncommon recently.

But before he could even walk out of the door, Ken froze. The blood in his veins had gone cold, and his knees felt heavy. Ken pushed himself to move, but couldn't bring himself to. He strained, he grunted, the confusion pouring down on him like so. He bit his lip; was he having some kind of menial breakdown or something?

He heard the boy's footsteps coming from behind. "Wow," he said softly. "You're not cooperative either." He came so close, close to the point Ken felt the boy's icy breath tickle his cheek. "You're not at all like Ms. Saito."

The last thing Ken remembered was the painful sensation of his throat being slit.


	24. Chapter 24

Natsuno strolled through the streets, his hands shoved in his pockets, as he peered lazily from side to side. There was so much silence that the jinrou couldn't help but be bothered by it. Aside from the occasional whisper, and the silhouettes of animals, there was nothing to watch, nothing to seek out. The red light districts were always so boring during the afternoon; the entire place appeared as if it was simply lying on some grass field somewhere, waiting for some passerby to come take it somewhere else. Then it'd go to the new location and admire it for a second, before lapsing into their same, mundane patterns. The ruined buildings, however, were relatively new to him; he'd been down this road many times, but he never noticed those cracks, nor did he see the trash underneath him or the cigars tossed carelessly for some pitiful animal to come by and eat.

Though the appearances were pathetic, Natsuno knew needed to distract himself with work, since tonight was the fashion show.

Haru made sure to remind him a countless number of times, endeavoring to get some sort of confidence that Natsuno would show up, regardless of his feelings towards Shimizu. Natsuno had every intention of coming, as long as Haru was alright with buying food for him for the next two weeks. And this was also meant to be a one time thing, seeing as how Natsuno can't stand that kind of world.

But whether or not Haru grasped this simple concept was not important. After this event, he and Shimizu would go and fix his home life, then they would leave. The fashion show was simply a determining factor as to how long they would stay with the boy.

Natsuno's thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he saw the tunnels.

Yellow tape was splattered all over the entrances, the red and orange lanterns replaced with an ugly stain of gold and black. The colorful banners that once strung high in the air was now gone, replaced by rags that cried horrendously at the scenes of the battlefield. Already insects were swarming all over, working hard to make the ruins their nest. The entire illustration was ominous, but Natsuno disregarded the big, bolded letters, and slipped past the tape. For such a restricted area, he was surprised at how nonexistent police authority was here.

The once bright street was now desolate, with a hazy wind carving its marks onto Natsuno's presence. Ashes were there, though it'd been more than a week since the fire. His eyes made out the broken wine bottles all over the floor, as well as the pictures of happy family and friends, which burned along with everything else. Toys and pillows were all reduced to nothing; bits of home revealed itself here and there, anxiously asking for their owners, but Natsuno never once looked down at them. If he did, it was only to interrogate the now dead inhabitants of the tunnels. Did you know about that poison? About that girl? Did everyone know about the plan, to kill him to avenge their friend's death? Were they so dependent on an image of a weakened human they mistook her for a real Baroness? Did they see how foolish they were in the end?

Natsuno could even see Shimizu dancing along to the lullaby of her own beautiful, corrupt obsessions. He saw her dancing in the flames, as she doused her frightened prey with hellfire. The trail of brown was probably the gasoline. If he turned his head to the side, he could see the matches she lighted them with.

Natsuno wandered about, scanning his surroundings for words that so much resembled even a small hint. Yet as he walked from one wing to the other, he never found such a hope. The labyrinth rendered him confused, all the while standing there, crestfallen at his failure. Shimizu, as expected, was incredibly thorough.

But he only had to take another step to smell blood.

Fresh blood.

Natsuno allowed his footsteps to carry him toward the scent, his pupils narrowing to scatter away the piercing darkness. The putrid aroma attacked Natsuno, but from it he could derive the contents that poured from the victim's body; opium, marijuana, meth…all of which in very high doses. Even as Natsuno hurried there now, the blood was already beginning to evaporate, diffusing into the air like a very strong perfume. It was saccharine and nostalgic at the same time, so much so the jinrou was starting to believe he had a very unfortunate penchant for finding irony in all the wrong places.

When he got to the body, he froze.

The girl was naked, with bruises all over her thighs and torso. There was a huge slash mark right above her stomach, her light blond hair ripped away from her skull. One of her eyes was swollen shut, while the other was cut wide open, the fluid and blood draining on the side of her lips. The skin of both arms was torn away, and so much of the muscle and fat had been cut off all that was showing was bone, aside from the arteries, which barely held onto to her already decaying corpse. Her legs were mangled, one bending the wrong way, the other showing bone, bone that was drawn on with a marker with images of gruesome faces and profane insults, insults that denoted the time of her death, and how long she was made to suffer. Her lips were sewn shut, the dried blood already making the strings blacker than what they usually were; from a distance, he saw her tongue ripped away and lying there, abandoned and alone. Her chest was ripped open. Her heart was missing.

The psycho used all her veins to spell out _Baroness._

He pressed his hand to his forehead, recalling the events of the days before.

And the very fact that Yume lay there grotesquely, in the same manner as the girl in the cage, was just too unbearable. Natsuno poured through his mind's contents, trying to determine the motive, any motive at all, that he could go off of.

Megumi Shimizu came to mind.

And with that, Natsuno left for the fashion show, cold sweat dripping from his palms.

* * *

The bright spotlights of the nearby school grazed the dark atmosphere, the shadows swarming all over the crowds of onlookers. The decorations swayed in all their scribbled on immaturity, with the artists ranging from nervous observers to angry losers. They were all at the bottom of the wooden stage, unsure of whether or not they should cheer on the anxious models. The judges sat in the front row, arms placed above the white table, pens in hand, while the scouters sat in the back, in all their cool indifference. Some of the audience members were straining their neck, trying to see the designs that had enticed the majority of the students, but others were frantically running about, trying to ensure that the show would proceed smoothly.

But they were all excited, no doubt. They were ready to see this mysterious designer, the person who had usurped Yuki and demolished the social standards. The complexities of the clothes were so new, so unique, that already many companies gathered around, hoping to catch a glimpse. A few reporters were scattered here and there, attempting to interview some of the students about this protege, students that were beginning to interrupt the poor creatures with haughty, trivial facts about their own achievements. The bright, lively scene contrasted to the girl who was walking that walked through the gymnasium, unaware of the attention she'd been given.

Megumi was seething rage pouring from the midst of her frame.

When she woke up that day, she found Haru happily dancing around in front of the door. The dress she made seemed a bit stretched, with a strange scent coming off of the once beautiful stitches. Along with the very fact that she sensed Yuuki just outside the building, as well as some unknown presence skipping away from her room, it was very clear who had instigated the chaos. She nearly killed Haru after that. Not only did he bring a complete _stranger _home while she was _sleeping, _but he had the _nerve _to _allow _said stranger to try on the her outfits, _without _her permission.

What's more, it appears that Yuuki was her assistant now, and unless he came to the fashion show as well, the female lead will want no part in it. Since Megumi once vied for the same attention, she could very well empathize with the girl, which proved irritating; it was just like looking in a mirror. Even from Haru's barely vague description of her did Megumi realize how bad a choice this was. Yuuki was actually in the middle of convincing him otherwise.

But somehow, the boy guilted them both into doing this.

Megumi rounded the corner, her pink ponytails brushing from the collar of her neck. She had planned to stay away from the spotlights today, though it killed her to do so. She dressed in her old, purple dress, with her regular, black high-heels, no other accessories attached. She left the skull belt home (uncomfortable), as well as her ripped stockings (she hasn't finished fixing them), so she felt sorely underdressed. When she heard jubilant voices echoing through the halls, she jumped and raced to cover herself. She grunted depressingly, before forcing herself to calm down.

She opened the doors of the empty classroom and set her fabrics down. Haru had given her a syllabus three hours before, with that stupid smile on his face. She sighed, and slowly made her way toward the windows, relaying all she was supposed to do tonight. After the fashion show, she'll walk up to the companies and ask if they liked her designs. If they did, they'll give her the paid internship, and hopefully, they'll work out a schedule where she can come in at night.

If they didn't, then she and Yuuki will sort out the nonsense going on in Haru's home. He'll be less dependent on them, and with mutual assurance, the two will leave the boy alone.

Megumi pressed her forehead against the cold glass and closed her eyes. She knew it was a far fetched love, unrealistic, hopeless, yet for some reason, she still clung to that tiny desire that he'd return her feelings. But alas, she took Tooru away, and she's killed so many, to the point where she's lost count of how many lives she's taken; to this day, Megumi wasn't sure whether she felt sorry for it or not. She knew she regretted getting caught, that much was certain. Anything else and it becomes hazy.

She couldn't help but chuckle softly, leaning against the window to absorb the cold, isolation of the covered moon which tucked away nicely in a sea of blankets. That's how it was these days; she could never tell if she was deluding herself or not. She was living in the big city, going out to the clubs every so often, living off of the bountiful wealth she acquired in that short time with Daiki. Bt in spite of all that, her hopes still cruelly shattered, withering away in depression's zephyrs. She was bored of the shimmering lights, the glamorous nights of when she would never return for days on end. The alcohol replaced the clean blood she was so fond of, oozing in its radiant decay. And she could have all the money in the world, yet it would never be enough to satisfy some lust; not for blood, but for something else. Innocence? Youth? Her days of when she was still just a normal human?

And not one of those thoughts gave a shred remorse for the village she destroyed.

She folded her arms, quietly observing the crowds. She turned when she heard those familiar footsteps racing towards her, and her lips automatically twitched into some sort of a smile. No matter what Haru did, Megumi would forgive him in the end. He was like an adorable, spoiled child no parent could be mad at.

He opened the door slightly, before walking in, content in his situation. He was in his cute costume, and the shiki had to admit he shone brilliantly. But when Megumi peered up at his eyes, confusion settled in her own. "What's wrong?"

"I can't get a hold of Yume," he explained. "I mean, she wanted to do this, so it's not like she gave me a fake phone number or anything."

Megumi narrowed her eyes. "Did you tell her about the show?"

"Yeah…but the costume's still on the hanger."

"What?" Megumi quickly took Haru's wrist and dragged him with her. She knew the layout of the school well enough on her own; the stench of sweat alone was enough to guide her. Though there were a few students still left in the building, she paid them no heed; she was too distracted by her clenching fists and frustration to even notice them gawking at her.

When they got to the girls' locker rooms, Megumi twisted and turned. The girl called "Yume" wasn't there. She felt Haru's skin growing warmer and warmer. She no longer felt his eyes on her back. "U-um, boys aren't supposed to be here-"

Megumi let him go. "You think she's sick?"

"Yeah…maybe…"

"Then we'll just have to find another one." she said. "You think the girls out there will agree to it?"

"I…guess so. I mean…everyone's curious about you anyways." Haru played with the frills on his sleeve, and timidly walked beside Megumi as they exited the room. The silence made the environment tense around them, so she simply resigned her frustrations and made her way back to the classroom, the boy in tow.

"Haru?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you can go on by yourself?"

She could see the shock on Haru's face. It wasn't long before he grabbed her hand, the shyness permeating from his body. "We've still got an hour left," he said. "I can find someone!"

Megumi turned to him, a sympathetic smirk on her face. "What? You're too nervous to go out there? And here I was, so excited to get you on stage-"

"They're find with just one model." He protested. "But they really want to see your outfits for guys _and _girls. It improves your chances at getting the internship!"

"Haru, it's fine-"

"No way." Megumi suddenly found his hands clasped firmly around her shoulders, with a determined light centered at his cornea. He stopped trembling at that moment, and all the playfulness in the air had gone. With one breath, he stared at her intently, and said, "You worked hard for this. It's not fair if no one else gets to see it."

Before Megumi could say anything else, the boy sped off, in pursuit of finding another girl to replace their wayward model.

* * *

Kaori found herself stranded in the middle of the crowds. No one was giving her a chance to go anywhere, and aside from the occasional nice bystander, Kaori was tense and guarded, not wanting to come near anyone, if only to ask directions. And even then, it never proved helpful.

Kaori stood on her tiptoes, attempting to see above the ocean of heads. She failed miserably, so she simply leaned against the tree trunk, waiting for the chaos to die down. She wasn't in much of a hurry anyways. She'd got off work a little late, but she'd already visited Mr. Yuuki, who urged her to go, despite her constant refusal. Besides, Akira practically locked her out of the house, ordering that she not come back until the show's end.

She heard him laughing after a few moments pause.

Well, she managed to console herself that she wasn't going for either of them; the school actually called their house and asked if Kaori could come into help. Of course, the girl couldn't really say no, even though she was dead tired, and since the bullying had stopped, with Yuki making a fool of herself, Kaori saw no harm in coming. What could they possibly do here anyways, in front of all these people?

When the stream of people died down, Kaori managed to make her way to the school, weaving her way around the bodies. She went through the front doors, and found no one in the main hall.

There was no teacher. No student. No sponsor. Kaori cocked her head a little, then proceeded to move down the classrooms. Floor by floor, the restrooms, the library; there was no one at all. Did she come too early?

So she waited. She sat in one of the classrooms, put her head down, and took a short nap. She wasn't very enthusiastic about their apparent absence, but at least they cared enough to invite her over.

By the time she opened her eyes, forty minutes had already passed. Still, she heard no voices from anywhere. At last, Kaori sighed and bit her lip, the loneliness of the prank clawing at her insides. She was embarrassed, a bit flustered by how gullible she was. Kaori rubbed her forehead, and stared up at the ceiling. It took her a while to think of anything at all.

Finally, she decided to make light of the situation. The view was stunning from all the way up here; even from a classroom, she could the entirety of Tokyo. She was also already on the third floor, so she might as well just watch the fashion show. All the outfits, she had to admit, were stunning, and that guy, Haru, was going to be participating in it too, so she should be cheering him on. Plus, unlike everyone else, who had to pay to get in, she could watch the entire thing for free.

Kaori felt herself smile a little.

Slowly, she got up and made her way to the window. For once, she could finally relax. Though the bite marks on Mr. Hitoshi worried her greatly, Kaori pushed the thoughts out of her mind. Even if the okiagari started the fire, more than likely it perished; probably set itself on fire after laughing maniacally at nothing in particular.

She heard footsteps behind her, and immediately, her head whipped back. Surprise decorating her face.

Her senses became hyperactive when she saw Ken at the door.

He was wearing a black hood, with dark jeans and combat boots. The same choker adorned his neck, the one that Yuki hated so much. There was a skull on his jacket, along with some dark red spots all over his jeans. Only his boots appeared to remain free from the mysterious substances.

What she hated most was that demented smile.

And the knife in his hand.


	25. Chapter 25

Outside, the crowds clamored on and on, happily shoving away their past anxieties and troubles. Some were at the concessions, buying whatever they could get their hands on, while others leaned against the tree trunks and observed, smiling at the finally lighthearted mood of the festival. And still, some were waiting in their seats, trying to predict what kind of talent would be displayed tonight, what kind of skill could dazzle the judges without a care in the world. But they all donned an air of informal enjoyment, the usual resentment now relaxing its hold on its victims.

The sun had already set, with nothing more than a shimmer of pink sleeping amongst the evening skies, the rays of the spotlights scattering the particles to mold the already fading illusion. The stars were hard to see, the pollution destroying whatever was left of the mundane daylight, and the clouds were beginning to move in on that lonely rock high up in the air. Yet, in spite of all that, it was peaceful, and enjoyable, and so dreamlike that no one paid any attention to the darkness that lurked beneath.

A darkness that stole itself into the school.

Kaori stood there, mesmerized by Ken's haunting appearance, something that had so elegantly embraced his features. The blade brandished its cool metal in the growing presence of the shadows, and all the while a slow, tiny smile reflected itself across the surface. From a distance, Kaori could almost make out the broadness of his frame, and had it not been for the jubilant screams outside, Kaori would have lost herself in the analysis, trying to decipher what was going on in those incomprehensible thoughts of his.

She found herself moving away from the windows, her gaze never leaving her strange visitor. The quiet was suffocating her in all its psychotic glee, while her eyes fell to the now prominent knife. She narrowed her eyes when Ken removed his hood, adjusting to the newness of Kaori's wariness. He blinked, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips, then looked down. A scarlet blush slightly grazed his face. "Sorry," he murmured. "We were just playing a game."

Kaori stood still. "Are you playing hide-and-seek or something?"

"Sort of. Seems like everyone's too busy to play though."

He sighed and leaned against the doorframe, the apparent tragedy taking its toll on his senses. "I'm bored Tanaka-san." His eyes lazily slid toward her, his eyes seemingly ravaging her body. "Since you're the only one here, why don't you play with me a bit?"

"Sorry." Kaori dismissed, and with that, she turned her heel, and proceeded to walk away from the troublesome teen. She took one step out of the classroom, felt a bone-crushing hand grab her wrist.

"You were always so good."

She was forced back suddenly, the hallway disappearing from underneath her. She cried out when Ken grabbed one of her ponytails, and pulled her toward his chest. His hand laid itself on her stomach, his nails digging beneath her blouse while she squirmed.

Kaori strained against his grip. Her fingers scrambled onto his hand, ripping away the skin until at last, she was clawing at his flesh, desperately trying to get away. All the while, Ken continued his incessant murmuring. "You were so good. You were so young and innocent and beautiful, and you never cared for anyone else besides your own, worthless self-esteem, huh?"

"Let…let go!" she cried.

She was so close she could smell the horrible stench dripping from his body. Her tiny fists began beating at his chest; she opened her mouth, but Ken clamped his hand down, cutting off the rising scream now building up in her throat. "You were good," he growled, "but you were also so cruel. So very cruel. You never looked my way, and never once did you cry for me. You're really cute when you cry, right? You know that, don't you?"

Kaori struggled in his hold, attempting to twist away, though she knew her bones were breaking. His breath trickled down her neck, and at that point, she even felt the hot saliva on her collarbone. She forced her fingernails into his skin, and bit his hand.

Ken grunted, and before Kaori knew it, she was slammed against the floor, the breath hastily escaping from her body. The knife was pressed against her neck, yet she still continued moving. Her eyes were closed, too frightened to look at him.

"Why?" she heard him whisper. She peered through the darkness, and froze. The insanity was painful, so very painful, for Ken had broken down the moment her eyes adjusted to the darkness. "Why? Why why why why _why_?! Why won't you _look _at me? Yuki doesn't mean _anything _to me! You know that, don't you? Stop that! It _hurts_!"

Kaori kept beating against him with one hand, the other groping around for anything, anything at all. She never let go of his hand, his blood already on her tongue. She felt his fists against her skull, striving in a feral frenzy to beat her into submission. She continued, the muscles in her arm crying out in pain.

Something red had caught her eye then, a red that stuck out even in Kaori's mind. In that moment, she blocked out Ken's saccharine praises, and released herself from the burden of fighting back. Kaori trembled profusely, endeavoring to suppress those horrific images she locked away within her forsaken past; needless to say, her efforts proved useless.

There was blood.

There was blood on her blouse.

Without hesitation, she wrested her legs away from Ken's, and kicked his stomach. She felt the grotesque pressure of his body suddenly leaving hers, and in that second of complete panic, she hastened away from him and rushed out the door.

Hot tears came pouring down her cheeks as she ran. The words brashly entered her mind, the disarray finally possessing her, so much so that whenever her emotions touched it, and the chaos within her senses became little more than primitive. She kept hearing Ken's footsteps chasing after her, his screaming her name bombarding her eardrums. Her body grew colder and colder, and the more she ran, the more tempting it was to listen to the sounds of her heartbeat, the rapid pounding of the adrenaline racing through her system. For a second, she dared look behind her, only to see the black figure slowly gaining on her, moving at inhuman speeds.

The gleam in his eyes made her run faster.

"Tanaka-san!" Ken called insanely. "Where are you going? Let me come to!"

_Go away, _Kaori answered mentally. She pushed herself farther, trying abandoning that disconcerting lullaby. _Go away now, please. _

"Tanaka-san! Tanaka-san! Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san Tanaka-san!"

The memories of Sotoba alone was enough to keep Kaori away. Yet, at the same time, she realized she was slowing down. The fatigue was building up in her muscles, and her breathing grew shallower and shallower. The shapes were becoming less distorted, and though she kept urging herself to move faster, she knew that in the end, she couldn't escape.

So once she rounded the corner, she rushed into the girls' locker rooms, shut the door, and locked it. She hid in the velvet shadows, panting heavily as she waited for Ken. Her knees were beginning to give out, so slowly, she sank to the floor, hoping to avoid detection. She heard her stalker's determined violence, as he ran around in his helpless, blindsided obsessions. She saw his shadow from the windows, so she curled into a tight ball and willed herself to vanish. She covered her ears, kept herself from shaking.

"Tanaka-san? Tanaka-san!" Ken screamed helplessly. "Where are you Tanaka-san?! Did you want to play hide-and-seek too?!" A few more moments of silence, then she heard his voice again which was, fading in the distance. "That's fine!" he continued. "We don't need those bastards anyways! So come out Tanaka-san! Come out, come out wherever you are!"

Kaori never looked up. Her eyes were shut, her knees against her legs, as she tried to undo the horror of the night. In her mind, she was still running, trying to get away from the desires plaguing her. Her brain refused to think of anything else, and seemed eager to dwell on the prospect that Ken…that Ken…

She wanted to fight back.

She did.

But she was just too tired to think of anything else.

She din't hear Ken's voice again, nor did she hear anyone else pass by. Cautiously, Kaori opened her eyes again, and straightened herself, attempting to, at least, calm herself down. She leaned her ear against the door, pondering on whether or not it was safe to come out. She bit her lip, the cold sweat dropping to the floor. She clenched her fists, but dared not to raise them, knowing full well one subtle movement will cause the light to give her away. She tried standing, but her legs refused to do so.

Finally, she heard footsteps.

They were trudging toward the locker rooms, in all their tense agony. They were crying out, mourning, peering through their vibrations to see if there was someone as lonely as they were, if someone was as _sick _as they were. Kaori blinked, twisting her body as her eyes bored the surface of the door. There was no thought in her mind, no dream she could escape to, no plan she came up with to escape this nightmare.

But she saw herself rise, both hands gripping the knob of the door. Her fears began ebbing away, while the silence continued on, its poetry wrapping around that fateful remembrance. The corpse of her father tortured her for so long, and it her no good to dwell on it. But for some reason, she couldn't help but think of him, of his red eyes and long fangs, of the betrayal she felt when she realized that he never stayed in the ground like he should. And the abnormality of those thoughts was what led her to think of Megumi.

Megumi, her very best friend.

Megumi, who ruined it all.

In an instant, the girl readied herself. Kaori was simply going to slam the door on Ken, and when he was knocked out, she would grab the knife and run, run as far away from here as possible. She would report him. She would make sure he never came to school again. She, along with Akira and Mr. Yuuki, would be safe from him, free to live in any way as they pleased. She could do anything she wanted, anything she wished, as long as Ken was out of the way.

She wasn't going to be that scared little girl again.

Because, unlike Megumi, she was never close to Ken.

The footsteps stopped at the front of the door. She heard a sigh, and Kaori proceeded to unlock the door, the entirety of her body already screaming in frustration. She narrowed her eyes, unknowingly blinking away the tears, as she quieted the increasingly difficult sobs. She tasted the blood in her mouth, and from the reflection of the mirrors, she saw the wound on her neck, a wound that had already stopped bleeding.

She saw the knob turn.

Someone had unlocked it from the outside.

Kaori started to panic, and began to push the door forcefully, determined to escape whatever fate Ken had planned for her.

"Who's there?"

Kaori recognized that voice.

Immediately, she backed away, slowly regaining her surroundings. Her brain started slowing down, and all the adrenaline emptied from her system. From behind that door, she saw a blond man peering from the crack. Kaori felt the relief coursing through her body, the lovely sensation now claiming her body.

The light suddenly came on, and Kaori flinched at the rapid burst of brightness. Yasuhiko, she recalled. His name was Haru Yasuhiko.

His eyes widened at the sight of Kaori. It took the girl a while, before finally, she looked down as well. Though she as still in a daze, she knew full well what she looked like; her face was badly beaten, and her ponytails were a complete mess. There was even a slight trickle of blood at the bottom of her lips. Her blouse was covered in crimson, and even from there, she knew that she had what appeared to be drool on her collarbone. She blinked, attempting to grab hold of some sort of psychotic dread, dread that was already used up when she was running from Ken.

"U-um…" he stammered. "Y…you aren't s-supposed to-"

"Sorry," Kaori whispered automatically. "I'm just a little tired."

"T-that's…okay, I-I guess." Yasuhiko just stood there, shifting his weight from side to side, possibly pondering on what he was supposed to do with her. She could see the hard decision pressing against his mind; on one hand, he didn't want to throw her out, but on the other hand, it looked like he needed to go somewhere. Was he running late for something? Was it important?

She watched him make his way to her, still unsure of what he should do. He crouched down, so that he and Kaori were at eye level. "What happened?" he asked finally.

Kaori simply shook her head. "Just a really…bad prank, that's all."

"Was it Yuki again?"

"N-no. No it wasn't."

But all the same, when Kaori's mind began working again, the explanation did make sense. Ever since Kaori came here, both Yuki and Ken were always together. They shared everything, bullied anyone who got in each other's way, did stuff that normal couples did; they almost even had sex in the classroom. She wasn't at all convinced of their breakup from before; just because Ken decided to "save" her from Yuki, it didn't mean anything to her. Who knows? Maybe they even cocked up this stupid scheme just to humiliate Kaori in front of the entire school.

She was embarrassed, knowing full well just how pathetic she looked.

Yasuhiko sighed after a silent pause, and raked his hand in his hair. "Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Good…" His expression visibly softened, and in that split second, an analytical light bestowed itself in his pupils. "Well, you can't go out like that…"

Yasuhiko stood and went to one of the lockers, Kaori in tow. He opened one of the lockers, and after a few seconds, he managed to unveil a big, black thing from beneath his arms. He turned to her, an unknown anxiety setting in. "H-here's the thing," he said. "Our model just bailed on us, and I'm…on a pretty tight deadline…"

"Last minute thing?" she whispered.

Yasuhiko nodded. "Yeah, exactly. I was um…I was wondering if you…would…"

Kaori took the dress in her arms, careful not to stain the soft fabric with her blouse. The hem draped onto the floor, and never once did her eyes leave it. She looked up at Yasuhiko, and asked if she was allowed to do such a thing. He simply chuckled.

"You better get dressed," he said. "The show will start in ten minutes, so when you're done, just meet me in the courtyard, and we'll walk on stage. Thanks! You are one heck of a lifesaver."

He never gave Kaori time to thank him.

* * *

The boy's breathing was incredibly shallow, but there was some warmth left on his skin. The black, hooded jacket he'd worn to conceal the bits of organ had already been discarded, but his red shirt had carefully masked the gore. The knife in his hand was twirling in her fingers, the scent of the blood strangely becoming more and more repulsive; every second spent with it made Megumi want to throw up.

She stood over him, his body lying on the roof of the school. After she perused his unconscious face, she turned away, contemplating on the revolting taste of the liquid. Her emotions were also pitching some kind of fit, all of which were now stirring up an unpleasant feeling from the pit of her stomach.

She had no idea Kaori was going here.

She found him roaming the empty classrooms, all the while singing "Tanaka-san, Tanaka-san" over and over again. He had an obedient look on his face, a look the police officers gave her whenever she issued her orders. He collapsed as soon as Megumi had him in her arms.

His blood wasn't clean, she knew that much. Based from the taste, she could tell he was a heavy drinker. Smoked too, judging from the nicotine embedded within the structures of his hemoglobin. He was a drug addict, but the flavor was so disoriented Megumi wondered if he was suicidal.

So what was someone like him doing in the school anyways?

A majority of the blood in his body wasn't his; the only time someone would do something like this was because they'd lost all hope in living, and in doing so, they decide to destroy everything around them, themselves included. There was nothing worse than being trapped inside a dream, never once breaking out to see the cold reality lying before him. Megumi would have assumed this, and would have left him there, to die on his own. She, after all, didn't need someone else dragging Haru down, nor did she want anything to do with her former friend, Kaori Tanaka.

But that was the thing.

He wasn't entirely in control of his own actions.

Someone had it out for Kaori, someone she didn't know. Though the blood itself was horrible, the enticement was so powerful that even Megumi had a hard time staying away from it. Pleas of _I love you, I love you_ kept echoing throughout her skull, and she almost covered her ears to block out the sound, though she knew it won't do any good. The rage was real, the depression was real…and this boy was the shiki's medium to channel all of that.

Someone as dangerous as that could target Haru…if, of course, he ever got involved with Kaori. And it bothered Megumi, not knowing who this person was. She couldn't focus on the remaining pretenses of the fashion show, nor could she enjoy Haru's debut; she was too absorbed in all of this.

She grunted, and crossed her arms. If Kaori simply hadn't _gone _to the same school Haru did, none of this would even be happening. Seems she's still just as irritating as she was before. Seriously, couldn't she just _grow up?_

Megumi heard that unmistakable torrent approaching her, a spiral that mirrored her own, hellish concerns. His attitude was dark, so dark Megumi almost shivered when she turned her back.

Yuuki.

"We need to talk."


	26. Chapter 26

Natsuno stared at Shimizu, analyzing the confusion and anger settling in her eyes. She wiped away the drab of blood spilling from her crimson lips, and when she turned to him, a demonic aura shattered the innocence of the school Natsuno initially felt when he arrived. Her dark pupils met his, and in an instant, that same, wild red crossed her corneas, as if daring him to try and abuse her. It was a provocation, from Natsuno's point of view, an insult that almost made him lose his senses. If not for the half-dead student near her feet, he would've murdered her right then.

Yet, at the same time, the stench of the blood rising into the atmosphere was enough to make him civil.

In the far off distance, Natsuno saw the knife, as well as the jacket, lying there, abandoned on the observing rooftop. Even from here, he could tell there was something was mingling inside that boy's body, and he could hear the orders that were now murderously screeching at him, ruining the boy's mental health which each cruel insult.

Personally, Natsuno had to admit that his mindset was awfully similar to Shimizu's; as long as no one got hurt, he was perfectly fine with allowing this intruder to live. If Haru was left alone, and if the shiki wasn't making any trouble, he could even turn a blind eye to tonight's events.

However, Yume's blood was on the boy. And, of course, there was the obvious fact that he was screaming "Tanaka-san! Tanaka-san!" over and over again.

His gaze briefly examined the stranger, before meeting Shimizu's dark expression. "Your model is dead."

Shimizu narrowed her eyes, as their suspicions engulf the once relaxing mood of the festival. It wasn't long before she pressed one hand on her forehead, trying to assuage some unknown migraine. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, thrusting out her hips as if seducing that unearthly calling into the depths of her own mind. "Go figure. And Haru was just _so _excited to walk the stage with her."

"Doubt it." Natsuno took one step closer. "When I found Yume's body, the word _Baroness _was written beside it."

Though she tried keeping calm, Natsuno only had to squint to recognize her shock. His eyes flickered to the boy's heavy body, and blinked. "Who was the guy after?"

Shimizu stared at him warily. "You need to understand something."

"Who-?"

"This _stranger _is after someone from Haru's school," she interrupted. "If Haru did anything to get in this guy's way, I don't think he'll be spared. _That's _why I'm getting involved." After Natsuno's silence, her fists clenched. "So, because you saw the word _Baroness _next to the body you think _I'm _involved in any of this? I'm just as clueless as you are!" Her frustration caused any tension between the two to disappear temporarily.

But the annoyance kept banging at his skull. "Do you have any idea who the Baroness is?"

"No."

"She goes by the name Amber Fawn." Natsuno explained. "Apparently, she was the heir to some big American corporation. She was kidnapped a few months ago, and since then, police have given up trying to find her body. Of course, we already both know that she was cremated-"

Shimizu strayed away from the boy, happily embracing the gradually growing distance. The whole illustration made the boy seem colder, more isolated…a hostage to his own pride. She made her way to the edge of the roof, the wind blowing away her nonexistent perfume. The strands of her hair tickled Natsuno's back as she passed him, as she sat near the brink, her legs dangling in the air, while wearing that aggravating, unreadable face. "She had a very bad medical history," was what poured from her throat, "and her blood was poison."

"That's right. Anyone who drank from it was more than likely to go insane."

"Then why are you asking about it now?"

"Shimizu, you saw the tubes sticking out of her body. Those tubes were more or less leading to the main blood supply. In other words, Daiki was feeding that _poison _to the tunnels. Now why would that be?"

"Don't know," she whispered. "The guy was crazy, either way you looked at it." She took a deep, pitiful breath, and continued. "He was foolish enough to make that girl his idol, and practically worshipped the cage she was in. He kept telling me on and on about how the Baroness came to visit them, and how she'll never forgive anyone who hurt them. Honestly, when it comes to fairytales like that, I just can't bring myself to believe them. They're just delusions."

"But Daiki was smart," Natsuno countered. "He hid behind the syndicates and did whatever he wanted to. His group was just a little too organized to just be a group of rag-tag nut jobs."

Shimizu chuckled emptily. "So? You really think there's still someone called the "Baroness" out there?"

"Who knows?"

"Oh, I get it." Her voice was humble, but haughty at the same time, as if she's finally gotten everything figured out; the tone alone was enough to make him move away. Even in the quietest whimpers, he could tell she was listening, clinging to his every word. It was very much the same way with him, though it pestered him to no end. "So you're saying someone _else _is pulling the strings, right? That somehow, our two problems are related to one another?"

"The guy who did Yume in clearly had a connection with Ms. Fawn. Come to think of it," Natsuno turned to the shiki, his eyes boring her back, "these syndicates usually rely on some chain of command, don't they?"

"Sometimes." she answered vaguely. "Besides Daiki's misfits, there were other syndicates around here, though I'm not sure where. They weren't as powerful as the Kirishikis. I don't think any of them have the influence to instigate something that big."

"Politicized?"

"Most likely."

Then the main source won't be located here; it was probably in one of the more fancier places, like Azabu or Omotesando. Natsuno learned more than enough from the tunnels to know that the more lucrative killing industries were located there, underneath those glittering lights and charismatic stores. There were even rumors going around that all the syndicates in Tokyo were under the command of just one brutal chain. Slave trafficking, the drug cartels, the yakuza; they've all made a home there. It was obvious that this whole mess will end in one, giant bloodbath.

Whose blood?

Natsuno didn't know.

Shimizu sighed. "If you're gonna do it, I want in."

"You said it yourself. You don't know what's going on."

"Don't forget; I'm the one who burned down the hospital, not you. And besides, by now people should know about the 'Queen of Hearts'. The information's probably managed to get all the way to the top."

"Don't be so optimistic."

"I don't want to remind you again that Haru _is_ living with bad people," Shimizu replied. "That failure of a stepfather is in the yakuza, isn't he? So is his mother."

Natsuno raised his eyes. "You stalking him too?"

She looked like she was about speak. In the end, however, she stayed silent. Her tiny body withstood the wind quite well, considering the fact she looked like she was about to jump over, into that deep, dark black.

The crowds, thus, made up for the stillness of the two vampires, gossiping about who cheated on whom, what celebrity did what, whether or not they were going to meet the protege who started all this craze. The band the school hired was so incredibly loud that it was hard to concentrate on just one individual. The lights were beginning to grow more and more colorful, while the announcer slowly made his way to the stage. Finally, Natsuno released her from the predicament. "I'm still surprised you haven't mentioned her."

"Who?" she asked, the numbness in her voice.

"You're friend, Kaori."

Natsuno knew Kaori Tanaka once. She was a loyal friend, a trait both she and Natsuno shared, and frankly, Natsuno also tended to think of her as more or less a little sister, especially with the stunts she and her brother tend to pull together. The siblings came for him, even if he didn't want them to, and managed to get themselves into the most ridiculous of situations, though in the end, Kaori fared hers better than Akira did. He remembered how concerned she was for her friend's funeral, and even went as far as to place a parting gift beside her tomb.

And despite all that, Shimizu froze, as if all the blood in her veins had slowly turned to ice. "I have nothing to say to her," she said coldly.

Natsuno squeezed the insides of his pockets, while his eyes irritatingly twitched at her disregard. "You really hate her, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Why is that?"

There was a slight pause, before she promptly stated, "That's none of your business."

"She was my friend." Natsuno narrowed his eyes, and made his presence all the more threatening. He knew the shiki had nothing to do with the attack; if anything, she was just as surprised as he was when they learned that Kaori was attending the same school as Haru. But though he could trust Haru with Shimizu, he could never simply hand Kaori over. More than anything, Shimizu might just kill her and be done with it, like she so callously before. "If you do anything to her, anything at all, I _will_ kill you."

"You're still close to her. After all this time-"

"She's trying to move on. Don't get involved anymore than you have to."

Shimizu turned, the darkness shrouding her eyes once again. She wasn't crying, like she usually did, nor was she overly emotional; she was hiding it all, behind that thinly veiled mask. It was a sort of lie almost, a false reality in which she would cling to whenever she felt distressed, or disheartened, or suicidal. Natsuno knew that face better than anyone else; he used to wear the same mask.

Yet, simultaneously, she managed to revert back to her old, feral self, her own presence vibrating as the boy's blood circulated through her veins. She was almost baring her fangs at the jinrou, when she hissed, "Kaori thinks the both of us are dead. And its better that things _stay _that way. Got it?" she snarled, a question to which Natsuno gave no answer.. She then straightened. "And it'd be nice if Haru stayed away from her too."

Natsuno smirked. "At the _very least, _you wouldn't want_ him_ in the cross fire, right?"

Shimizu returned his glare. "I remembered you were a lot cuter than this."

So the two contented themselves in watching the fashion show. The models were doing remarkably well, in their opinion, and though the judges appeared more than harsh, it was all professional. Camera flashes were going on and off, with those happy models standing there, posing for those greedy lights. And in the middle were the main stars, Haru and his own, self-proclaimed partner, both of whom were waving immaturely to the cameras, the shyness already showing itself in the most adorable way. Shimizu even raised her own hand to greet him back.

Then the two vampires froze.

And pondered on Haru's ignorance with the supernatural.

* * *

Haru wasn't particularly bothered by the lack of clothes he had, or that Asaka was waiting outside, constantly watching his back to make sure no cops were around, or even the fact that he was going to Denenchofu to meet with the newest corrupt client. Rather, the cause of his sour mood was simply standing a mere few feet away. His arms were folded tightly against his chest, and though his eyes were closed, Haru knew better than to think he was sleeping. There was a tiny frown tugging at his lips, and irritation penetrated the once light-hearted atmosphere between the two. Haru was almost afraid to approach Natsuno that morning.

The night had gone as planned. Megumi, as expected, had gotten a paid internship at a huge company in Omotesando. She received the 500,000 yen right after the fashion show. Not only that, but she also managed to negotiate her hours, as to only work at night. The terms alone were more than agreeable, and Haru couldn't help but congratulate Megumi over and over, even if at that point, his words were more than unwelcome. Still, she kept that prudent grin on her face, knowing already she was going to have to move soon.

As expected, Natsuno was there too, waiting outside patiently, scanning the crowds with that piercing gaze. From what Haru could tell, the guy looked pretty carefree, albeit he wanted to leave the show completely. Unfortunately, Tanaka-san was called away before she could meet the two, but Megumi allowed her to leave with the dress as a parting gift. Everything worked out, and there was no particular reason for anyone to be upset.

So Haru can't really grasp Natsuno's attitude at the moment.

Haru didn't know how long he stared at Natsuno. There was just something in his expression that scared Haru, something that told him his strange friend would be gone for quite some time. And suddenly, everything seemed so very unstable. "Natsuno?"

He opened his eyes then, and slowly, his head titled upwards to where his eyes met Haru's. "What is it? Forget something?"

"Look…I won't be in town for a couple of days…so try and get along with Megumi. Okay?"

Natsuno chuckled. "It's you I'm worried about. I mean, you're going to Azura with that son-of-a-bitch pedophile. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow, I'd flip on the news and find your dead body somewhere on the side of the road."

Haru flinched at Natsuno's harsh tone. The suitcase handle touched the very tip of his fingers, the leather giving off a scent Haru didn't take too fondly, a scent that felt like they were leaving as well. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, they were going to leave him.

Like he was a toy they'd recently gotten bored with.

Haru bit his lip, and gripped the handle with all his might, clinging onto it like an anchor amongst the wild, swirling emotions inside himself. Natsuno cocked his head, as if wondering what could possibly going through Haru's mind. "What's wrong?" he asked with a playful smile on his face. "You look like you're gonna cry any second now."

"You'll be here when I come back, right?"

"What?"

Haru turned away from Natsuno then, partially amused by Asaka's now frantic gestures. A few men, all in black, were watching them. They had big belts strapped to their waists, belts that housed a variety of guns. It was funny, actually. "You aren't going anywhere, right?"

He didn't want to see the hesitation. He didn't want to face that simple truth, that perhaps Natsuno had gotten tired of him already, and Megumi was on the verge of throwing him out. Haru knew he was demanding more and more from them, but he couldn't help it. He was desperate.

And it was by that desperation he felt troubled at the silence.

It took a while before Natsuno finally spoke. "Y-yeah, I will."

Haru looked up then. "Megumi too, right?"

Natsuno nodded, already pained by the burden of the promise. "Yeah. Shimizu too."

With that, he was satisfied. Of course Megumi was going to have to wait. She needed help moving, didn't she?

But when Haru sped away in that yellow taxi, he couldn't help but look back. He pondered on those mysterious shadows under Natsuno's eyes, and the almost gut-wrenching scowl he had on his face. Haru simply closed his eyes, and turned away, facing forward at the suspicious looking driver and Asaka, who was telling the man to "floor it."

_Sorry,_ he wanted to say. _I'm just that selfish. _


	27. Chapter 27

Yume woke to the sound of running water.

Though her eyes were open, everything was dark; she could scarcely see anything at all. Something cold touched the entirety of her back, the chills making their way into her bones without any reluctance. There was a sharp throb in her head, so sharp that for a moment all the black turned to red in her eyes, and she winced at the pain because of it. Her torso hurt as well, and she felt so detached from her body it felt like every limb was twisted the wrong way. There was a burning ache in her heart as well, so much so she wondered if she had a heart at all. She tried to move, but failed miserably.

Something was holding her down, she realized.

She strained against the chains, the leather straps, something that felt like plastic… It had occurred to her that her mouth was still open, so she tried shutting it. She jerked suddenly; something pierced her cheek. She could already feel the blood flooding into her mouth, so her tongue felt around the corners of her lips. Her eyes widened; tiny hooks. Tiny hooks kept her from shutting her mouth.

She blinked, her pupils searching the darkness, the chaotic panic finally setting in. Though every movement hurt, she was embarrassed, being detained like this, so much so she wouldn't mind tearing her body apart, just to escape from this place. Tears welled in her eyes, as she called for help. No sound came out.

Slowly, she began to recall, even in the midst of her struggle, those troublesome situations already being forced out of her brain, beyond her vanity's hopeless purging. She was walking along Shinjuku's borders. She'd been calling Yuki for the fiftieth time that day, when Yuki told Yume to meet her there, in the abandoned tunnels…something about getting back at the witch for all she put them through. Yume agreed…then she ran into Haru and changed into that dress…She was walking home…She was attacked.

The fashion show…

This wasn't happening. This _can't _be happening. She was supposed to be at a fashion show! She was supposed to be with her new boyfriend now, making all those bitches girls jealous, getting Ken to look her way. She was going to be a top notch model; she was going to be scouted and she was finally going to travel! She wasn't going to stay in Japan!

"Ah, you're awake."

Yume slowly turned to that gentle, seductive voice. Her head craned from one side to another, trying to find out where the stranger was. He sounded handsome, so she calmed down a little, and regained some control of her senses. She wanted to ask where she was, what she was doing here, but for some reason, her throat wouldn't obey.

She heard his footsteps circling around her, and at last, she felt two palms stroke her cheeks, casually brushing aside the cold sweat. She could feel his warm breath tickle down her neck, and it wasn't long before she began trembling again. "I know sweetheart," the voice continued. "It's just going to hurt for a little longer. We'll let you out as soon as you're mentally stable."

Stable? Yume jerked at the straps, her body vibrating in frustration. What were they talking about? She was always stable! It's not like she was one of those psychos in the asylum. If anything, she always thought she'd make a great psychiatrist, considering how many people have come to her with their problems.

She felt his lips press against her forehead. "You didn't hear me? If you're a good girl, we'll let you outside. How does that sound?" She flinched when the man chuckled. "I mean, you're doing so well with the tests, so it's only a matter of time."

Yume cried out, the tears cascading down her pale cheeks. She kept shaking her head vigorously, trying to undo the leather straps, to shake off those needles, doing whatever she could to try and get out, but all to no avail. Why was she here? What were they planning on doing to her?

She quivered when she felt his thumb press against her throat. That chuckle turned into something more menacing, so much so Yume grimaced. Perverted, insane, bad…everything swirled in her mind at once; every fiber in her body willed the man to leave.

That was how it usually worked in real life; you make a wish, and the person that was bothering you would simply go away. Though the witch was an exception, Yume honestly thought that if you believed hard enough, everything you wanted in the first place will come to you; there was no need to sully yourself with things such as work, since deception and laziness were always rewarded.

So why? _Why? Why wasn't he leaving?_

"I'm glad we got him to remove the throat; still don't know why we reattached the tongue…" The stranger murmured softly. "You were planning on screaming, weren't you? Darling, you can scream all you want, but no one's going to hear you."

_Go away. _Yume thought, clinging to this insignificant hope with all her might. She remained frozen on the table, her eyes tightly closed, refusing to look at anything else except her own illusions. _Go away bad man. You're not real. You're not real._

"You're lucky, you know that?" He kissed her forehead again, then stood up. "Anyone could have killed you. Anyone at all, so you should actually be thanking us."

_Go away. Go away._

He scoffed at her immature ritual, and eventually, his footsteps began fading away. "If it weren't for your friend, who knows what might have happened to you that night."

* * *

It'd more than three days since Mr. Yuuki had come back from the hospital. Thought they still kept their old routines; Kaori was a bit more careful, making sure she counted three heads instead of two, and keeping Love in the living room instead of her own room (he made a good guard dog). She had a harder time sleeping, her eyes surveying the neighborhoods to make sure they were safe for the night, remaking the old talismans to ward off the bad spirits. She even made crosses and kept them carefully hidden in each room.

Akira kept accusing his sister of not telling him anything, of course, and complained constantly that he was feeling left out. She'd been "keeping secrets" (which was true), and "lying" (which was also true), for so long, he "didn't know what was real and what wasn't" (he wasn't very good at acting, in Kaori's opinion). Kaori did keep calling Yuki's number, to make sure her former bully wouldn't try anything. She kept a close eye on Ken, who kept staring at her with those strange eyes. She made it a point to go to work right after school, and to call Akira when his own school was done, as well as Mr. Yuuki when he got home, to which he grumbled, "You're paying the phone bill."

Mr. Hitoshi weighed heavily against Kaori's mind, even as she sat in her room now, doing the extra drills simply because Kosei-sensei got angry with her class for their callous behavior to the substitutes. The bite marks on the nurse's neck kept reappearing behind her eyelids, as did his almost cremated corpse, and the maggots that formed their nests in his body. Though she didn't want to admit it, she knew that from the progress rigor mortis had made on the body, along with Saito-san's testimony, that Mr. Hitoshi had been dead for some time.

So she wasn't surprised when he told her that the case was turning into a murder investigation. But she doubted they could catch the culprit.

Especially if they weren't human.

Kaori sighed, and turned her head to the prized trophy hanging in her closet. The gift was so beautiful it made everything in her closet look pathetic. She never really felt bad about the obvious fact, since she knew she could wear it for any fancy occasion.

After the fashion show, Kaori wanted to meet with the designer, but for some reason, Yasuhiko-san stopped her, and instead, offered her the dress in return for her help. No matter how much prodding she did, he was steadfast in his decision, so she had no choice but to agree.

It reminded Kaori of those old-fashioned, Western style clothes. The skirt had two, long slits on the side, with lace decorating the tip of the thighs, forming a crisscross pattern her eyes loved to follow. The sleeves weren't complete, leaving enough room for the wearer's shoulders to be shown, but at the bottom the sleeves seemed to trail to the floor, which reminded Kaori of wings. Belts hung from the arms, and they were connected to the oversized bow on the back of the dress, something she liked touching; the fabric was so soft and cool. Near the neck, there was a chained choker which connected the wearer to the dress completely, with a black heart to the right of it. There was a ribbon that went along with it, a green ribbon, adorned with purple and blue ruffles which descended to the model's collarbone, with two tiny black feathers sticking out in the middle. Unlike Yasuhiko-san's outfit, there was no train, nor were there any ruffles; the designer seemed to emphasize the model's curves more than anything else, so much so Kaori felt it would do a great disgrace to the dress if she added anything more.

Though she wasn't very comfortable wearing the dress yet, she was amazed by the fairy-like transformation she held from the fashion show. Yasuhiko-san helped her retie her hair with the ribbon, and removed any stray speck of dust that would mar the dress's wonderful quality, and when everything was done, she only had to look in the mirror to know she was truly, utterly beautiful. Everyone was staring up at her, their eyes wide with pleasant surprise. The lights danced along the lines of her dark beauty, and when she held Yasuhiko-san's arm with one hand, another waving to the audience, she couldn't help but feel perfectly content with the situation. At that moment, she didn't care if Yuki saw her, of if Ken was going to try and kill her again; she was fine if she died right there.

Of course, she never told Mr. Yuuki or Akira this.

Kaori remembered how disappointed everyone was that very next day. Simply put, they were upset about how the winner had mysteriously snuck past the ever watchful eyes of half of the student body ,and received the award money, along with the internship. This, as usual, sparked a multitude of theories, all of which proved useless in the mystery. A lot of rumors had gone by, saying that the designer hailed from a big time fashion company in France or Italy, and they were so busy they didn't have time to pause for the cameras. Others say they were just incredibly shy, and searched the security cameras for any hint of said shy person (all cameras were off, much to Kaori's chagrin.) Some say the designer was Yuki herself, but she was just too humiliated to show her face in front of the cameras.

Ah, so many lies roaming the halls.

There was a knock on the door. Kaori looked away from the dress and at the opening creak. Mr. Yuuki stood there, in his usual apron, holding the phone in one hand. That's right; Akira was out with Mori, probably gathering more information on okiagari. She stood, confused at Mr. Yuuki's alert expression. "What is it?" she asked.

He put the phone away from his face. "It's uh…it's from a boy…"

"Is it from school?" she pressed as Mr. Yuuki gave her the phone. He only shrugged his shoulders, but already, she saw his suspicions aroused. "No more than five minutes." He instructed, before walking away.

Kaori stared at his back for a while, before putting the phone to her ear, wrapping her finger along the cord. "Hello?"

"Is…is this Tanaka-san?"

Ken.

Kaori was about just about to rush back to Mr. Yuuki, when she heard him stammering from the other end. "W-wait! Please wait!"

She stiffened. The desperation in his voice brought back a plethora of nightmares, and the way he'd been staring at her in school has just been so creepy; she couldn't help but feel he was merely watching, waiting for when she became so vulnerable she was stumbling in broad daylight, to carry out whatever threats he intended for her. She was terrified, and she wanted nothing more than to hang up and continue her her innate politeness refused to disappear. "W-what?" she demanded.

Ken sighed in relief. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for the past week. Why haven't you been answering the phone?"

"How'd you get my number?"

"Y-Yuki." he admitted sheepishly. "She's…always like that. And I'm really sorry for her actions toward you, me included, as well as our entire class-"

Kaori pulled the chord tightly, and almost yanked it out of the phone. "Okay," she whispered frantically. "Is that all?"

"N-no. Also-"

"Also what?"

"Would you go out with me?"

Kaori had gone silent, her body enveloped in a sort of forced induced coma. Her lips slightly parted, and along with the dazed look on her face, disbelief had already clouded her mind. She stood there for a second, then two then three, until at last, she balled her fist, angered by the prank. "Are you joking?"

There was a brief pause on the other end, but Ken recovered quickly. "I'm not," he said seriously. "Tanaka-san, would you go out with me?"

"Did you honestly forget what happened?"

"I know I was in the wrong, and I'm sorry for that, but Yuki-"

"Are you serious?" Kaori was on the verge of leaping across to the other side and just…_strangling _the jerk. He was still very real, that knife-wielding psychopath, and unless he was suffering from some kind of mental disorder, she was unsympathetic to his efforts. "You _chased _me with a _knife!" _

"…_What _are you _talking _about?"

"That day, during the fashion show!" she screamed, her voice becoming more and more hysterical. "You _tried _cutting my throat! You even chased after me! What? Do you still want to play hide-and-seek?!"

"Hey, calm down-!"

"No way! And what's with the flowers, huh? You keep staring at me every day too!"

"Look." Ken interrupted, his voice hard. "During that stupid fashion show, I was sleeping on the roof. I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"I saw-!"

"And since Yuki was giving you a hard time, so I thought I'd be a nice guy! What's so wrong with that, a guy buying flowers for a girl, or even _looking _at her just because he thinks she's pretty? What the hell is wrong with you Tanaka-san?"

"Me?!" Kaori started laughing loudly, so much so that from the corner of her eye, she caught Mr. Yuuki staring at her, who was very much confused by the conversation. "If you really wanted to help me, then you should've _stopped _Yuki from doing all of those horrible things! Do you have any idea how much I've _suffered _because of her? At the very least, you could have-"

"I did!" Ken screamed back. "You remember when she lost the competition, and she took out all her frustrations on you?! She looked like she was about to freakin' _murder _you! If it weren't for me, you'd have to endure _that _for four more years!"

"You're wrong!" By now, hot tears flowed from her eyes, the anger toward Ken reaching a boiling point. How could he not _see? _How could he remain blind to everyone but himself? He had the nerve to challenge the impossible, to try and rewrite what the present had dictated to be true. Her observations were correct too, considering how he went, "Oh, oh. I'm _wrong? _Tell me, _Tanaka-san, _how exactly am I _wrong?"_

Kaori held both arms to the phone, afraid her constant shivering would put an abrupt halt to the fight. "If…if it wasn't for Yasuhiko-san-"

"What? That _freak?" _

"He's a very kind person!" Kaori shrieked, causing Mr. Yuuki to grimace at her high-pitched defense. "He's helped me so much! He's not a _freak! _He's a good friend of mine, and I won't stand it if you badmouth him!"

"So…you're in love with that thing, huh?" Ken chuckled emptily from the other line.

"N-no!" she shouted immediately, a slight blush creeping to her face. "All I'm saying is you shouldn't gossip about someone, especially behind their backs! And you shouldn't lie about that person either! You don't even know him!"

"Tanaka-san, that guy is with the _yakuza-" _

"He's still a nice person! A lot nicer than a certain _bully _I know! And if people like that are in the yakuza, then I couldn't care less! Besides, it's better than going out with someone who wants to cut your throat every _five seconds._" Kaori couldn't take anymore. She couldn't stand his ignorance, nor could she accept his lies, nor his persistence in pretending he was innocent when her eyes said otherwise.

"Like I said-!"

"I don't ever want to see you again you jerk! And don't bother calling back here!" By now, she was racing out into the kitchen, almost shoving Mr. Yuuki out of her way. She slammed the phone onto the receiver, the sound echoing throughout the room. Quiet sobs escaped from her lips, and the tears just kept falling. She stood there for a while, staring at theta apathetic messenger, which always harbored bad news, and though she kept her hand on it, she contemplated on breaking the thing so she wouldn't have to gaze at it again.

A few minutes later, she felt Mr. Yuuki's hand on her shoulder. She turned rapidly, while wiping away the tears with her sleeve. "I…I'm sorry…I promise I won't-"

"It's fine," he said calmly, albeit a bit awkwardly. "You've…had a lot to deal with, but you shouldn't worry. Everything will go back to the way it was."

Kaori nodded obediently. It was nice, having someone around to listen to you when everything was spinning out of control. But these situations were just so different from Sotoba's problems; normally, you would talk it out, and as long as it wasn't drastic, then everything would be fine. However, apparently it wasn't as simple as that out here; there were so many complexities Kaori couldn't understand, so many variables that didn't make sense, that it was incredibly hard just to keep up. In the span of that moment, she kept asking herself over and over how Natsuno got through this, or why Megumi even _wanted _to go into city life?

Probably because they were just that strange.

She rubbed her temples, and smiled at Mr. Yuuki. "Thanks. I-I'll get back to my homework now."

"Sure, but why don't you sit down for a moment? I think it's time we had a little talk."

Kaori blinked. "About what?"

He returned her smile, which followed an intimidating stare. "About the kind of guys you attract, of course."


	28. Chapter 28

Haru tugged at his tight sleeves, the rough feel of the tuxedo already trying his patience. That suffocating tie was already undone, lying somewhere still and forgotten, with its tight red rings enamored around his throat. His dress shoes pinched at his feet. His socks were biting, with the itchy fabric sticking to the dead skin and ripping it away, as if an army of ants had come up and started attacking him everywhere. He kept scratching it, though he knew it wasn't going to work. His hair kept drooping to his eyes, and whenever he tried to move it, Asaka glared at him in his usual way, so Haru resolved not to touch it, at least, when the man wasn't looking.

He'd only been in Azura for an hour, and already he wanted to leave.

The tall skyscrapers bore down at the tiny limousine as it made its way toward the hotel. The glittering jewels and clothes hurt his eyes, and the heat of the neon signs reminded him of the strip clubs and brothels situated in Shinjuku. There were plenty of weird looking buildings here and there, some inverted inside out, while others appeared to have been turned upside-down. There were some statues in front of the buildings, shaped like the cartoon characters he's never heard of. The newest manga was displayed on alleyways, and though some of the designs were fairly decent, Haru thought that the artwork was just too messy, compared to Megumi's beautiful, neat strokes. The outfits here were all too bland, never once showing that sweet crossing from the normal to there real.

In all honesty, he could easily say he missed the abandoned arts district, along with its lonely, asylum of a building that bellowed out the glass's lonely, revered sounds. He missed that lone light on the top, and how it just sat there, mesmerized by the darkened shimmers from afar. He missed the loud arguments that would usually take place there, mostly he and Megumi, on trivial matters, such as why he would bother to buy her muffins if she wasn't going to eat them. He missed the way she would yell at him, and how her oddly gentle voice would come rushing back to him in full force after the confrontation. He wasn't sure how he would feel when she moves to Omotesando, other than knowing that he would be even more detached than he was originally.

But then there was Natsuno, who had yet to reveal a single thing about himself, aside from the fact that he knew Megumi from long ago, and that he enjoyed poking at Haru's depression. The two were uncomfortable being around each other, and the only time that awkward tension didn't surface was when they were distracted by something completely unrelated to the topic at hand. Personally, Haru didn't like the way things were headed. He wanted those two to get along, to forget whatever past troubles they gave to one another, and to start over. Even after they brush his request aside, unwilling to even entertain his hopes with the very mention of it, his wish holds firm.

The limousine stopped at the front entrance of the hotel. Asaka shoved him out, he himself dressed in black slacks. Haru could feel the sweat coming off from the man's palms, and smirked haughtily. He never thought Asaka would be nervous for something as mundane as this. Surely he wasn't going to back down from such a lucrative opportunity, right? He can't just let a high schooler walk all over him.

The lobby was modernized, to say the least. The windows were wide, their grey metal reflecting the urban vitality of the atmosphere, and the cool floors held none of that grand imagination he usually saw in other stores. There were tiny potted plants situated near the columns of the windows, with empty bookshelves hiding behind them. A lounge stood nearby, with black, leather couches placed on either side of the fireplace, and crystal (yes, crystal) tables that mirrored the present situations with stunning accuracy. It was through the table's surface Haru laughed at Asaka's anxiety. His eyes were twitching violently, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder, as if he was being stalked by some crazy ex-girlfriend.

Really…

Haru led the half-crazed killer to the front desk, and managed to quell his humorous mood. "Yasuhiko."

The secretary nodded, and gave him his keys. "Top floor, ballroom 13."

"Right…Asaka?"

"What?" he snapped.

"You're hurting my hand."

Asaka thrust Haru's arm to the side and turned away, trying to hide his face behind his jacket's collar. The secretary, of course, didn't recognize him, and gave him a rather strange look. "Your group…has a buffet at one pm," she continued. "They've also requested one of our company's private tours of the city. It's already been paid."

Haru narrowed his eyes. So they were trying to impress him by tossing their money back and forth? What good was it to him? But he took the receipt she laid out in front of him anyways, skimming through its contents, before stuffing it in his pocket. He didn't even bother looking at the total cost. "Thanks," he said, as he lead the scared coward across the lobby and into the elevators.

It was strange, how the day was starting out. Haru thought he'd go through the panic attack that was already rendering Asaka useless, but instead, an abnormal annoyance was welling up inside of his chest. He counted the seconds that passed him by while the elevator slowly made its way up the building, seconds that could have been spend in a more efficient manner, such as memorizing the exact details of where Megumi would be staying, or just simply talking to Natsuno. He folded his arms across his chest and slid a dark glare at Asaka, who looked like he was about to throw up.

The elevator stops, and the two walk out, greeted by that same, cool design the lobby echoed. He passed through the air conditioned corridors, and came to a courtyard of doors, all of which were labeled. Haru spent the next half hour counting the numerous ballrooms mentally, until at last, he comes to two large, french doors, the glass providing a murky view of whoever was inside.

He pauses for a moment to scrutinize Asaka's trembling frame. "What?" the man grunts.

"You want to wait in the lobby?"

"Open the damn door," he grumbles, so that's what Haru did.

Unlike the rest of the hotel, the room seemed warm and amiable. There was a simple red carpet on the floor, with golden vines stretching from the center. The golden walls gave way to hints of brown reaching up to it from the floor, which drew the whole appearance together. The tall arched windows gave Haru an amazing view of Tokyo's entirety, along with shadows that appeared to claw into whatever lust this room held. Once again, that post-lintel structure was there, giving the room an unnecessary dullness; it marred its beauty. There was a large, oval conference table in the middle of the room, with the plentiful chairs guarding it all around. At each seat, glass cups waited patiently for their blood and masters, hoping that they could be of some value. He only had to walk in to find that apparently wealthy group seated there, waiting for him.

There was a man in the center of three big bodyguards, all of whom were dressed in black, all of whom were stoic, ready to kill within a moment's notice. The man himself had blond hair, with similar, light brown eyes. Judging from his abnormally pale skin, and the way he held himself, the man was probably a foreigner, British or American. He was wearing a normal business suit, with a purple handkerchief tucked away in his breast pocket. There was a tiny twinkle in his eye when he saw Haru, and a tiny smile tugged at his tight lips.

There was another person beside the man, who looked like he was around Haru's age. He had jet black hair, and a slow, predatory expression that made Haru a little conscious. Like the man, his skin was very pale, and he was also wearing a business suit. But his eyes were black, black as night, to the point where Haru thought he'd been staring at two holes, drilled into his skull. There was no light reflected from them, nothing that kept the two abysses from sucking everything dry. When he caught Haru staring at him, he gave him a cruel smirk and looked away, gazing out at the very city Haru couldn't help but find disgusting.

"So," the foreigner greeted happily, leaning forward in his seat. "You must be Haru Yasuhiko, huh? I'm Virgil Fawn, CEO of Fawn Investments. Can't tell you how long I've wanted to meet you."

Haru sat at the very end of the table, and gave him a tight grin. "Thank you sir. It's an honor that you would invite me here." Asaka remained standing. The killer was about to open his mouth when the foreigner beat him to it, staring strictly at Haru. "I only want to talk with you Mr. Yasuhiko, and you alone. I don't want unnecessary interferences coming along in this meeting, alright?"

Haru blinked, his former image of the stranger already shattered. "Um…okay." So he put his arms in his lap, straightened his back, and regarded Virgil Fawn evenly. The two parties just stared at one another for a few moments, before finally, the man barked out a chuckle. "Aren't you going to ask why you're here?"

"Why am I here?"

"Sharp boy, aren't you?" Mr. Fawn put his elbows on the table and squinted his eyes. "You're in high school, right? From the looks of it, a senior?"

"That's right sir."

"Don't you find it peculiar that I requested to se you, especially when you haven't done anything of value?"

Haru raised one eyebrow. He leaned back against his chair and shook his head slightly; this guy was a complete joke! "That's your job," he replied.

"Good boy! Gets right down to business; I like that!" He said in that irritating, jubilant voice of his. "So…have you heard of me?"

"Besides the introduction, no."

"And that's just fine." Mr. Fawn's head bobbed up and down. "Have you heard of my daughter then? Amber Fawn?"

"Can't say I have."

The man stiffened, but then relaxed at the instant. "She was always very sick. So sick, in fact, that half of the company's revenues went straight to her hospital bills. She had a um," he made some weird rotating gesture with his hands, "weird blood disease, which made it extremely hard to treat. As a result, she would have to go on living in those hospitals for some time. Even after the doctors said they could do nothing to help her condition, we still threatened them, telling them that if they didn't do all they could with the utmost care, well…we'd cut off all funding to the hospital."

As Mr. Fawn laughed proudly at his action, Haru couldn't help but feel shocked, quizzical. What was this guy's problem? Sensing Haru's confusion, Mr Fawn calmed himself, and continued. "Well, that's just a parent's grief after all, knowing that their child was going to die, knowing that they can't do anything about it… Well, that's how it started off initially.

"But then we got a very good deal, you know, from some Japanese businesswoman. She said that they were developing a cure for that disease, and she would like to sell that cure to me. They've already gotten the trials done, and the FDA has approved the drug. The only thing that bothered her was that the drug wouldn't be marketed until…about a year later, I believe? So she sold it to me, I gave it to my daughter, she got better, and we live happily ever after. Nice story isn't it?"

Haru blinked, the redundancy of the story stabbing his mind. Where was he going with this? "So…what does that have to do…with-?"

Mr. Fawn held up his hand, with that same, eerie smile on his face. "Hold on, I'm getting to that part. Now…where was I?" He pretended to think for a little, then brightened up again. "Yes! Amber got better, and my wife and I had a really big party to celebrate her recovery. At that time, the company's revenues were skyrocketing; even after all the bills were paid, I was still making way more than I thought humanly possible. I think I had everything I wanted to have then; even if all my money had somehow disappeared, I would still be happy."

A creeping quiet had settled over the room. Mr Fawn cocked his head, the very same ignorance blinding him as it usually did Haru. "But of course, a happy ending like that doesn't last forever."

With one fluid motion, he took the cup that was sitting on his desk, and smashed it to the ground.

One of the guards scurried to clean up the mess, picking up the bits without any hesitation. "See that, Mr. Yasuhiko?" Mr. Fawn asked quietly. "That…is what it feels like when your world has reached the heights of oblivion, when you've gotten everything you could possibly ever want, and you have everything to show for it. Those tiny…_little…pieces_…are the emotions you have inside, when you realize that you've accomplished all you needed to, without help from others. Now, I want you to go back to my little story.

"You can do that, can't you?

"I've gotten everything I desired. A good company, a happy marriage, a now heathy daughter, who was, I should say, ready to make her debut into the world. Yes…I was a millionaire. I had a large house. I was influential, and could get anyone to do whatever I wanted them to, even if it meant sabotaging those rich…political bastards."

Mr. Fawn placed his knuckles underneath his chin. He shot Haru a sharp, piercing look, analyzing whatever contents there were. "Do you understand, Mr. Yasuhiko?" He asked, as he regains his composure. "When a human achieves the highest quality of life, they can't stop there. They can never stop there. They have to keep progressing, evolving. They have to do something to better themselves…but since I was at the very top of the food chain, there was nowhere else I could go. I couldn't go back down, because then I would be in despair, but I couldn't just stay in that one place forever."

He stood up, and started pacing around the room like a caged animal. He looked restless, as if at any moment he was going to give away his own life to get that much needed adrenaline. "Do you know how _boring _that is, Mr. Yasuhiko? Do you know how _long _I've had to put up with that emotion? My daughter, my wife, my company, daughter, wife company, daughter wife company daughter wife company daughter wife company…What kind of life is that?"

Haru clutched his knees. "It's a good one," he said. "A lot of people would love to have what you have-"

"AH! But there's the thing!" Suddenly, the man wasn't standing near his guards. Rather, he was there, in front of Haru, gripping both his shoulders with aggravating strength. Haru flinched at his bone crushing fingers, and tried moving away, only to remain where he was, trapped in that chaotic conflict. "I do! I DO! I've been featured in _every _business magazine, in _every _channel known to _man! _I did everything! People thought I _knew _EVERYTHING! They were fools! They were utter fools, and yes, they did want my life! THEY DID!

"But at the same time, _they did not._

He thrusts Haru back into his chair. He turned his heel, and slunk back to his own seat. "I don't expect a child to know how it feels. How could you? I have the best. I have everything I could possibly want. But though they _say _they were jealous of me,though they _admire _me, even in an uncivilized cease pool, they still do not _want it. _They're content with their own, heathen lives, and go on with their business as if nothing was happening. They're content with the boredom of staying in one place; they can't possibly hope to understand my feelings. And why should they? It's not like they have a family to return to. They're so used to lacking all the necessities in life that they ignore their own faults."

Mr. Fawn began snickering. Haru's eyes widened, unable to comprehend this creature. Practically anyone would want the life Mr. Fawn was living… unless the wife was only after money, or the women in his family were so vain he was tired of their existance. "So…what exactly do you want me to…?"

Mr. Fawn vigorously shook his head. "No. I love my family. I love them to death, and they love me too. My wife even gave back her jewels to me and said she only needed me. My daughter was the same way. Ah, how cute."

Haru shuddered at the icy tone in his voice. "Then what-?"

"I decided to try and break that stupid ladder. Even if I have to jump and break both my legs, I would still evolve.

"A few months ago, I bought that Japanese woman's company, the one that experimented with biotechnology and drugs. The science was sound, the evidence was there, and I couldn't help but admire how much research they did to make sure the medications weren't defective. Amber was so taken by it, she decided to go there everyday, trying to understand bit by bit exactly what had gone on in the manufacturing process. She was young, beautiful, and she felt like she owed her life to that company. She was so naive."

The boy next to Mr. Fawn giggled softly. "You were jealous, weren't you Virgil?"

"Indeed I was," he answered. "I didn't want to go back down the ladder, and since she was so determined to give her life to the cause of science, So I figured we could both get what we want. I hired a few thugs, beat her half to death, and experimented on her."

What?

Haru's mouth was slightly agape, the memory of Asaka's behavior beginning to come back to him. Haru made no move toward the insane person, but dumbly repeated the observation. "You're…experimenting…on your own _daughter?"_

Mr. Fawn shrugged. "Well I was. Tell me, have you heard of the Bethlehem Hospital?"

"Y-yeah, the one that got burned down…"

"My daughter was being tested on there. She was so obedient. Didn't make a single noise whenever the needles were driven into her. She was prized, so when the hospital burned to the ground, you could see that I was, naturally, upset. My wife had no idea at the time, if you're wondering, so I kept her there, in that adorable little bubble of hers. Quite the invention too; she always knew how to block out the undesirables." He laughed at the notion.

"So here's what I want you to do." Once again, Mr. Fawn leered onto the table. "Because of that fire, my work as been jeopardized, and as a result, I've had to find a new test subject. But I do still want justice for Amber's death. She was such a good girl, so much so I wanted to throw up."

"So you want me to find the killer…"

"That's right boy!" Mr. Fawn squealed happily. "With your ties to the yakuza and the opium trade in China, I trust that you, of all people, won't go to the police with this, right?"

"B-but…"

"And you're the perfect person for this! No one would suspect a high school student, right, especially one as craven as you. Besides which, Toma here," he pointed to the boy standing beside him, "has gotten some hints that the killers are in the very area you live in. Of course, he can't go because they're already suspicious."

"They?"

He nodded. "It appears the killers are working together as a group. Moving on, I have a lot of underground laborers working for me, in all sorts of different countries, Japan included. The particular syndicate in Tokyo is clearly troubling to me, since that was where the killers were last seen."

He sighed helplessly. "But alas, other then the fact that they were there I've got nothing on them. They've massacred the entirety of Bethlehem Hospital, as well as the Shinjuku red-light districts, so I've got no live witnesses. And of course," he glared at Toma, "it seems you're withholding information."

Toma shrugged. "You didn't want to die of boredom."

"So anyways, that's my job for you," the man stated, his dark mood overcame by a now more vibrant one. "Find the ones who burned everything down and kill them. You've got to show me that they're dead, like a head or something, okay?"

Before Haru could say anything more, Mr. Fawn stood like a hyperactive child, and said, "I'm ready to put down the deposit for this job. Consider it a friendly loan. Oh! It's already one! Time for the buffet then."


	29. Chapter 29

Haru sat there in that black, sleek limousine, uncomfortably gazing down at his sweaty palms. His emotions were wildly racing across his mind, while the businessman's words already claiming his entire concerns. He never noticed how Asaka seemed to simply vanish from his side, nor did he notice Toma's strange, scrutinizing eyes. No, far from it. In fact, he was too busy with his own internal chaos he couldn't even carry on a proper conversation with Mr. Fawn. Of course, he knew he looked suspicious, and even when he searched for his voice, the poor thing was already hiding; he knew all of that, but he still couldn't shake off his terrifying daydream.

Mr. Fawn had experimented on his own daughter.

The benefactor his mother had gotten involved with…was a _sick psychopath_…

Haru couldn't bear to meet Mr. Fawn's eyes. He was too scared to say anything, to frightened to follow his own will. But he did muster up a bit of courage to examine the other passengers, all of whom intimidated him so very much. Toma and the other bodyguards were sitting right next to the man, Toma with a bored look on his face. The guards were on either side of Mr. Fawn, their brains breaking down any possibility of Haru being a threat.

Haru started to open his mouth, but Mr. Fawn beat him to it. "You _are _going to accept the job, right?" he asked in that bored tone of his. "We're offering you a half a million yen as a deposit. If you finish the job ahead of schedule, we're even willing to throw you a nice little bonus."

Haru hadn't found his tongue yet, but immediately, Mr. Fawn frowned, catching the hesitation brimming within his eyes. "Like I said, you've got connections to the yakuza. You can't risk being implicated as well, can you?"

Haru's eyes widened. "You're _blackmailing me?" _

The man shrugged. "Of course I am. I've already heard about your pathetic morals. Now, normally, I would've looked for someone else, but you've got an advantage the majority of other applicants don't have." He sighed and leaned against the car window, his eyes never leaving Haru. "But you _do_ understand, right? You're just as bored as I am, aren't you? Living the same scene day after day-"

"T-this is still wrong…" Haru finally managed to squeak out. His pulse pounded against his head, and even when he wiped his palms, the sweat remained. He really was nervous, wasn't he?

Mr. Fawn chuckled. "My, my. What a very weak response. Tell you what." He swiveled his legs toward Haru's direction, and put both hands on his knees. That same, childlike grin embraced his lips, a grin Haru was sure to give him nightmares later on. "We're going to show you something we don't show anyone." He leans back into his seat and looks wildly around his audience for approval. "Isn't that right?"

They, of course, all agreed.

Haru clenched his sleeves. "I said I don't want to get involved-"

"Blackmail, remember?"

And with that, Haru fell silent.

"Good little boy." Mr. Fawn cocked his head. "This thing I'm going to show you is an extremely important factor in all our experiments. See what I'm doing?" he asked abruptly. "It wouldn't be fair if you didn't know anything about me, right? You're an honest young boy, aren't you?"

"W-wha-?"

Mr. Fawn knocked on the driver window, a small smirk on his lips. "Hey, driver, take us there." With one sharp turn, the limousine headed away from the city streets, and turned away to the bright lights of the freeway. Haru cast a cautious glance at the man, his arms trembling. "What…is-?"

"You'll find out when we get there."

The driving was chaotic, to say the least. The driver never once made any attempt to avoid the pedestrians, children and animals alike. Whoever was in the way was going to get run over; it was as simple as that. Though the windows were tinted, and Haru could barely see out of them, he could still make out those simple forms, from screaming parents holding their loved ones close by, to cops just waiting to chase them down. However, no one ever pursued them. When a bystander seemed to report something to a nearby cop, Mr. Fawn only had to roll down the window and give them a strange look. They were silent after that.

Haru narrowed his eyes. "How much influence do you even have?"

"That's something you should already know," he replied in that equally bizarre voice. "You know, you _should _relax a bit. But then again, you _could_ be excited. And why wouldn't you be? It's not every day you get to see something this big."

How could it be anything less?

Something occurred to Haru that moment, and he looked up at Mr. Fawn. "You're company…is it in Denenchofu?"

Mr. Fawn clapped his hands. "So you _aren't _that stupid!"

Haru clenched his fists. "I just found it a bit strange. One moment, Asaka was telling me that we…were…"

"Oh, don't worry about that man." The limousine slowed to a stop, the bright daylight now reduced to a dim shadow. "He's just fine. As you were saying," he said, making his wild gestures, "we were…?"

"Meeting you at Denenchofu," Haru finished lamely, the defeat slipping from his tongue. "What's the big idea? If you were going to show this thing to me anyways-"

"Ah." Mr. Fawn stopped, holding up one finger on his lips. Haru watched as he placed the hand back on his knees, the seconds ticking by with every move. "What a cruel thing to call your employer. Monster…what a funny word. To answer your question, we've a lot of unexpected interruptions, and, to be perfectly honest, the office was a complete mess afterwards. We had to spend a lot time getting ready for your arrival, so the meeting place was moved to Azura."

"Kind of last minute, don't you think?"

Mr. Fawn chuckled lightly. "Surprising. Doesn't seem you're in any way to complain though, does it?"

"Shut up."

"How brave you've become after…what, twenty-five minutes?" he taunted.

The limousine gradually slowed to a halt. Haru never took his eyes off the host. The driver held the door open, and one by one, they all slipped out. He opened it a bit wider for Haru, but when the boy turned to the driver, the employee kept his face down, tugging the edge of his hat to make sure his eyes were covered. Haru blinked, before following Mr. Fawn.

The company building reminded Haru of the Bethlehem Hospital. It was nice, modern, but nevertheless, on the inside the windows were taller, wider. Perhaps that was the only notable thing about this place; everything else was an exact replica of the now ruined healthcare facility. Even its workers were like carbon-copies of the nurses and doctors there. It was creepy, in Haru's opinion.

There was a big elevator at the end of the hallway. Toma and the bodyguards stood where they were, tortured by the fact they were unable to follow the madman down to hell, while Mr. Fawn pulled out a funny looking card. He stepped in, and invited Haru to join. Unfortunately, the boy did.

The atmosphere was suffocating. "

Only I have access to these levels," Mr. Fawn bragged.

Haru ignored him.

When the elevator stopped, the doors opened, revealing a cold, metallic scent bombarding Haru with its icy neglect. The air made him step back, as he attempted to take in the ghoulish hands that have laid themselves upon him. Though the black covered his vision, he could smell iron diffusing in the air; he could smell iron, and feces, and urine.

There was growling.

Mr. Fawn remained where he was. "Would you like to see her? She's beautiful, you know. Been wanting to meet someone new for some time now."

Haru bit his lip. "You…can't be serious…"

"Oh relax!" Mr. Fawn stepped out of the elevator, holding the doors open for Haru with one hand. "She's not gonna bite! I tell you, she's gonna be excited. She's gonna be excited."

_Don't go out there, _a tiny voice said from the back of his head. _Go back to the normal world. You don't need the money. You can always start over. Megumi wouldn't mind, and Natsuno said they'd both be there when they get back…_Haru disregarded that logic. Something kept pushing him out, something that demanded that he see what the creature had done to her. The presence was depressing, dirgeful, with a small elegy building up in the back of its throat. It was as if a mourner was leading him to a bottomless pit, a deep, dark hole in the ground where he'd remained trapped.

His footsteps echoed from across the room, the sweat from his hands coldly brushed aside. He saw Mr. Fawn's shadow slowly decreasing. He walked ahead, simply leading him to what appears to be a cage. Mr. Fawn took a deep breath and screamed, "ISN'T SHE BEAUTIFUL?"

The lights suddenly came on. They were so bright Haru had to shut his eyes for a moment. However, when he'd gotten used to it, he regretted opening them, so very much.

He was just about to throw up.

This…thing was torn up. There were two arms clumsily stitched to her thighs; the wounds weren't even closed right, so it lay there, bleeding, with black pus spewing out of it. The skin was transparent, with a light shade of blue enveloping its entire frame. If he squinted, he could see the brachial arteries near the elbows, desperately trying to beat any blood back into its dying limbs. The veins stretched all the way from the arms to the main body, where it spread across the anal region, making it look like a big, black, bloody web. The bones on the legs were sticking out, made to walk the creature over to Haru like so. The bone marrows were severely damaged, and the bones themselves were in horrible condition, the yellowing possibly from its saliva. The torso was ripped apart, with its ribs penetrating the skin. In its chest, there was a heart, and though it wasn't beating, it kept one claw on it, pounding against it, trying to get it to work again.

But what he paid most attention to was its face. He could see the eyeballs, though they were covered by something, and he saw no pupils from here. One side of the mouth was sown shut, while the other was contorted into a twisted grin, with sharp, elongated teeth sticking out at the front. Its nose was ripped away, leaving a big, blue gaping hole in the middle of its face. No matter how hard it tried opening its mouth, it always failed.

Haru watched as this thing moved. It was ape-like, trying to bang against the giant, steel bars that were keeping it locked away. It howled, it screeched, it moaned, and when it saw Haru, it immediately rushed to him, pounding its fists against it.

Haru flinched at the noise, as it kept demanding him to do…something he couldn't understand. Set it free? Kill the man standing beside him? The voices kept piling within his head, so much so it was hard to keep track of his own thoughts.

Mr. Fawn chuckled. "No need to answer to that." He only had to take one step forward to quiet the creature down. "Look at you, all getting feisty like that."

The creature whimpered, and tried backing away. However, instead, it slowly lowered its head, trying to look obedient, attempting to do whatever it was it needed to appease its angered master. The perspective was satisfying, so Mr. Fawn turned back to Haru. "I'm sorry. She isn't usually like this."

"H-huh…?"

"That's right; I never introduced you. This," he stretched one arm out, "is Genso. She is my most prized possession, aside from my wife, that is."

"Genso…illusion…"

"Well…" Mr. Fawn began, laughing sheepishly, "considering how magnificent she is, she is a bit of an illusion, isn't she? I carved her out of some human walking around the streets."

Haru slowly turned toward the man, automatically regretting his decision. "What human?"

Mr. Fawn shrugged. "Some girl. Anyways, here is the product. Come! Take a closer look!" He grabbed Haru's hand and lead him toward the creature, who by now was slinking away, when Haru swatted the man away.

This was too much. This was insane. Just what _exactly was this guy's problem? _No, "monster" is just too nice a word to describe him. There was something more to this guy, something cruel, something demonic-

There was silence after that, none of the joyous conversing the stranger carried on before. "You're sick!" Haru screamed. "You're sick in the head! _Who the hell do you think you are?! You've got no right to do that to people!"_

"Oh?" Again, the ice returned to Mr. Fawn's eyes. The moral that Haru sought after immediately disappeared, replaced by frozen fear. "After all I've given you, you still refuse my offer?" He took one step closer to Haru, steadying the boy by grabbing his wrists. He held them up to his eyes and smiled devilishly. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?"

"What are you-?"

Haru jolted when the elevator doors slid open, revealing only Toma, who was dragging something…an object that left a trail of crimson along the metal. The boy kept walking in, and though Haru wanted so badly to run, Mr. Fawn's iron grip kept him there, away from the exit. Toma smirked. "You were late. I was getting a bit worried, you see…"

Mr. Fawn eased his grip, though his nails pierced Haru's skin. "Good." He turned back to Haru, who was too terrified to squirm. "Listen boy, I'm going to be perfectly frank with you. I've already made myself clear, but I don't mind repeating myself. We _need you here." _

"WHY?!" At this point, Haru saw no limitation that could keep the rising panic out of his voice. "You can just investigate yourself! You don't need me here! Please, just let me go!"

"My, how adorable," Toma murmured. His eyes met Mr. Fawn's, and without further mention, he tossed something in front of Haru. Slowly, he looked down, and suddenly, he was clutching Mr. Fawn's hand, the shaking never once stopping at his command.

Toma laughed. "If you don't cooperate, you'll end up just like this slut here. 'Kay?"

* * *

Natsuno blinked, the shock of the block suddenly pressing on his mind. After a few moments, that pressure was gone, replaced by something more troubling. His eyes went away from Shimizu's, and slowly, he started clenching his fists. What was going on over there?

The two shikis were in the now empty apartment. All those glittering fabrics were taken down, the curtains removed, the papers all stashed away in some manilla folder. The couch would be taken later, along with the table and mirror, but everything else will be carried away to Omotesando. The company's contract was still on the table, its finely printed words oozing with delicious ebony, all the while contrasting greatly to the white background it'd been blessed with. The check for the 500,000 yen was beside the paper; Shimizu was going to cash it tonight. She had the evidence of where she got the money, so she wouldn't be traced so easily. After that, both he and Shimizu would go together.

It wasn't really the ideal situation to be in. However, staying here was proving to be quite troublesome. Ever since that little incident with Kaori, Natsuno had been watching the girl at school carefully, by biting the boy on the school's roof and looking through his eyes. His suspicions were confirmed when he tasted the boy's blood; he had, indeed, been controlled.

The vampire was crazy, if his thoughts managed to penetrate Ken's normally stable ones, though the alcohol might've loosened the human's mind a bit. Unlike the other shiki in the area, the intruder was powerful, and from the blood's taste, they were filled with the amalgam of all lives and souls that were lost to the same, inevitable fate. He could hear still hear their screams, and he knew full well Shimizu heard the same things. So he traced through Ken's memories, only to find that he'd been attacked at the school, by a jinrou.

That jinrou was probably somewhere far away by now, away from this region, away from Kaori, away from the tunnels. Natsuno suspected their motives had something to do with Shimizu, though at this point, he was entirely confused. Why had they gone back? What were they planning, if they weren't going to attack from the shadows? Were there more? The only worthwhile answer both he and Shimizu managed to think of was that the majority of the syndicates were in Omotesando. It was harder to move around, but it made information easier to find.

No one filed a missing persons report for Yume yet.

Shimizu had already looked into it, and apparently, her supposed parents stated they never even had a daughter to begin with. The "newer" records supported their story, and when Shimizu had the police question them again and again, they repeated their answers. Their eyes were completely blank, and they had those creepy smiles plastered on their faces. The interviews took place inside the house, so Shimizu couldn't enter. Then again, she didn't have to, Natsuno recognized that disgusting aroma, the same aroma that was on both Yume's and Ken's body.

So they weren't after Kaori after all. But Natsuno kept a close eye on her anyways, partially for her own safety, partially because it irritated Shimizu.

She caught his far off gaze, and stopped packing. "What happened?" she asked.

"Asaka died."

Asaka Yasuhiko…an infamous murderer and rapist. He was known for picking up prostitutes, then strangling them later, and starting gang fights in which he would be the only victor. He never left any bodies, never left any leads at all, and only spouted lies; there were no half-truths amongst that light. It'd only been luck he managed to marry Haru's mother, a leader in a major faction to the Japanese yakuza, and a woman who had recently gone missing. Since she was absent, he's had free reign all over Tokyo. He's commanded more and more authority; he could practically do whatever he wanted to, and he never let the opportunity go to waste. He's even tried framing Haru involved a couple of times.

All in all, the man was pathetic.

He was a drug dealer, and a very bad one at that. More than once he's had to beat up his customers, simply because they couldn't decide which drugs to buy. He has a terrible gambling habit; in just one night, he could lose an entire life insurance policy, the deed to someone's house, and an entire savings account (literally). With an exception of him being their leader, members of his own faction didn't want to be around him; they wouldn't even listen to him, unless it was to take orders from one of the higher-ups. He couldn't manage on his own, and from Natsuno's point of view, the man needed Haru to keep him from drifting off into that sinful destruction, no matter how much he hated the boy. It was a twisted lifestyle. It was crude and barbaric, and it was also the only reason he decided to accompany Haru; he couldn't afford to let Haru out of his sight.

In more ways than one, Asaka was worser off than the boy ever will be.

But Natsuno still bit him.

His blood tasted revolting, and there was so much opium in it that after Natsuno was finished, he couldn't stand straight for a little while. Sake intwined its claws into every fiber of the man's veins, and his blood was thick in fat. Cocaine, marijuana, medicinal herbs he's abused time and time again…all of which were taking their tolls. He was going to die a slow and painful death; no amount of overdosing could save him from that fate.

He was _that _much of an idiot.

But they were still hoping that Asaka's stupidity would help Haru escape. If Haru could run faster than Asaka, then he would have a much higher chance of escaping then the stepfather would. They only, however, meant to use Asaka as a last resort. So if Asaka was taken, then automatically a countless number of red flags would be raised.

Shimizu took a deep breath, and narrowed her eyes. "Where was he?"

"He was in Azura."

"You go ahead then," she said quietly. "I'll meet you at the apartment."

There was no argument that night.


	30. Chapter 30

The cool, humid night made the walk more relaxing, but of course, Kaori couldn't help but feel a bit bothered by the silence. The street lights flickered in that annoying way of theirs, the dim light s behind the glass slowly but surely going out. Her shoes kept hitting the hard pavement, while Love's tiny paws shoved away the stray bits of stone and dirt. The autumn air kept hitting her cheek, her baggy clothes loosening at her jerky movements, while her hair flew behind her, keeping up with her pace in perfect ease. She was breathing hard, the pulse never leaving the confines of her ears. It made the scene all the more creepy. Its entirety reminded Kaori of that moment in those cheesy horror movies, when the victim had one last second of bliss, before being killed.

There was no one outside, as expected. Everyone was in their homes, sitting in near those cozy hearths, curling up in their soft, cozy beds. They were probably sitting around with their families, happily munching on some dreamlike fairytale where those happy endings drift easily from ear to ear. The cruel breaths of the October night must have warded their fortunate souls away, helping them take shelter in their beloveds' arms.

Kaori pictured those moments together, and soon, she slowed to a stop, involuntarily yanking Love's leash from behind. The tiny dog kept gazing up at her curiously, his mouth agape. The girl wondered if she could count the insects that were so pathetically caught up in his slobber; ten, twenty, maybe thirty? Who knows?

Things have been getting out of hand. Everyday, Ken would try to talk with her, and would leave her those precious gifts she would normally be glad to see. He would write her notes in every class period and have one of his friends pass it on. He would join her at lunch and ask her about the latest assignments Kosei-sensei pushed onto the class, though she kept ignoring him. He even once grabbed her out of nowhere and attempted to escort her back to her home, in an effort to show just how gentlemanly he was. At first, Kaori was intimidated by his intimate advances, but as time went on on, she grew colder and more indifferent. Actually, she was on the verge of getting restraining order against him with, of course, Mr. Saito's help.

Meanwhile, the one person she did want to see, Yasuhiko-san, was gone, off on some family exploit. She knew from the rumors that he was in the yakuza, and has probably killed a few people. He sold drugs on the market, was a weapons-dealer for the Soviet Union and America, and was even slated for execution before being bailed out by his parents. That was the general consensus the school agreed upon after countless days of debating.

But from then on, the stories got a bit hazy; some say he's stolen money from a couple of people, while others say he's the leader of a rival gang, which is rebelling against the normal social order. The fact that he was an assistant for that mysterious fashion designer made things all the more confusing.

And it just hit her. No one knew a single thing about Yasuhiko-san.

It wasn't fair, how the students kept gossiping about Yasuhiko-san behind his back, so she'd been looking for a way to get to know him better. She certainly didn't want Ken to know anything about what she was doing; he'd go on to say bad things about him, and in truth, he was incredibly annoying. Nor did she want to do what Megumi did; stalking the guy until he rejected her. She didn't want to come off as creepy, but at the same time, she wanted to look like she was interested enough to get him to feel comfortable around her. It wasn't romantic or anything; rather, she wanted to have another friend she could talk to, someone that would help her out whenever Mr. Yuuki or Akira were in trouble.

In essence, she wanted an ally.

Kaori started walking again, lost in those tangled thoughts. However, when she tried moving, the leash suddenly slipped from her fingers. She blinked, and looked back, finding Love there, growling at the shadows from afar.

She sighed, and strolled back to the dog. She picked him up with one arm, and started patting his head with the other. "What is it?" she whispered softly. "What's wrong boy?"

Of course, Love never answered her.

Carefully, she followed the dog's line of sight, and squinted her eyes. At first, there was nothing there in that empty space, so she proceeded to walk back home. However, one second later, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a silhouette emerge from that darkness, and stopped. She hugged Love tightly, the contemplative atmosphere they both enjoyed shattered by her adrenaline. Was it Ken?

Two bright, blue pupils shined in that ebony. Kaori took one step back, as the figure emerged into the lamp-post's light.

Yuki.

Kaori set Love down in front of her legs, and gripped his leash tightly when he tried attacking Yuki. It didn't take long for Kaori to take in her appearance; the missing lover was in the school's uniform, with purple ripped stockings wrapped around her legs. Her lipstick was bright red, and the mascara was too much, as usual. Her face was paler than she remembered, but if she looked hard enough, Kaori could make out the ghostly powder smeared all over Yuki's face, and of course, Kaori found that same, agitated scowl contorted in the very depths of the former bully's eyes.

"What?" was the first thing Yuki demanded from her.

Kaori blinked, and took another step back. "Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't see you." And with that, she abruptly left, twisting her heel and racing away from the girl.

But she couldn't move.

Kaori looked down alarmingly, the worry weaving its way through her body. Yuki's _claws _were on her wrist. Yet Kaori already knew this trick, and she betrayed no panic or nervousness. Her voice, though, wasn't as strong. "W-what?" she managed.

"Leave him alone," Yuki ordered.

_Ken. _

Honestly, that creep was more trouble than he was worth. Kaori slapped Yuki's nails away and turned to her, an irritated expression decorating her face. "If you want him, you can have him. I don't have any special feelings for Ken."

The scowl on the strange girl's face twisted into something sicker. A low growl rose from the back her throat. She grabbed Kaori's wrist again and twisted it.

The pain was agonizing.

Immediately, Kaori fell to her knees, yelping in pain. It felt like Yuki was going to break her arm, Her fingernails clutched Yuki's knuckles, trying to pry away her hand. It didn't work. Slowly, Yuki leaned over, and giggled quietly. "You know, I _hate_ sluts like you." she said in a sweet, melodic voice. "Ken wasn't enough for you, was he? He's a really really great guy, and you just had…" she twisted her arm harder.

"…to…"

Kaori screamed.

"…make…"

There was a very loud crack.

"…him yours, right?"

She shoved Kaori away. Tears spilled from her eyes, as she held her arm tightly. It felt like the limb was on fire, and there was a dull ache underneath the skin that she clenched her teeth, unwilling and unable to say anything. She could feel the ground eating away at her skin, as Yuki pulled away.

"I…I don't…"

She scoffed. "Don't play dumb with me," she hissed, yanking down Kaori's hair. "I saw you with him!"

"N-no…it's not true…"

It took Kaori a while to realize Yuki's maniacal laughter, which was now relieving itself within that tense atmosphere. "What? You think you can just replace me now, you bitch?!" Yuki shoved the Kaori face on the floor, before promptly stomping her foot on the skull. A hint of blood slowly made its way down Kaori's forehead. "You _really think a nobody like you can replace me?! _I KNOW YOU DID SOMETHING! JUST FUCKING ADMIT IT!"

Kaori remembered her vision filling with crimson and black. She was getting more and more disoriented. She remembered being so very confused, not understanding why Yuki kept targeting her. She remembered not knowing where Love was, though at this point, she was thinking more of herself. He was probably growling somewhere, trying everything he could to make the bad person go away.

Well, he never did have fangs.

Just as she peeked up, she heard another crack echoing from her eardrums, and a soft, gentle voice telling her to sleep for a while.

She thought she saw Megumi there, just before she passed out.

* * *

When the shiki planned on going to Omotesando, her original aim was to investigate the syndicates residing in the aristocratic underground. Though her internship _did _mean something, her top priority was guaranteeing Haru's safety. It was also through him that Megumi managed to bury her heartbroken feelings and work with Yuuki, to try and sort this whole thing out.

She's already reorganized the old files and memorized their contents, all of which were neatly put away in her arms. She even got a rough outline of that world of theirs, of who was involved, of the predicted targets, and of the territories they've laid their claims to. Yuuki had been visiting each region, digging up what he could, saving everything in the event there was an emergency, planning each and every attack; things were actually going great, actually…

But just as she was about to leave this area, she smelled that same, disgusting scent in the air.

It didn't take Megumi long to track down the location, the excitement rising from her chest. Her very special miniature ax was tucked away in her sleeves, screaming in delicious joy at the thought of another victim. The guy was a jinrou, wasn't he? If she could kill him, then that'd be one less problem to worry about. Simply because of brutal experience, she quickly caught on that a corpse was worth a lot more than a living person. It was that logic that she went to the vampire, racing through the edge of the wind and the ghastly moonlight. Her thoughts filled with that thick, black blood, the vibrant liquid soaking through her the membranes of her veins.

The streets were all dark. When she sped past, there was no sound, nor were there any obstacles. There was nothing that could keep her from reaching her prey; she could already feel her fangs piercing through the roof of her mouth. She imagined the taste of his blood on her tongue, relished at how amusing his face would be when he realized he was about to be killed. She even giggled at the tiny notion of him begging for her forgiveness, a nicety that didn't exist never curried Megumi's favor.

She turned the corner to that lonely little streetlamp, the one that kept flickering every so often.

Megumi froze.

That was Kaori.

Kaori, who was lying there crumpled in some woman's arms. Megumi could see the blood running down her neck, the arteries that were slowly coming undone. Her arm was broken, and her forehead was bruised, with that crimson flowing after; her skull was fractured. The girl was getting paler and paler by the minute, her breathing growing more ragged. There was cold sweat dripping from Kaori's body, and even from all the way here, Megumi saw the vampire's murderous intent.

Megumi could hear the seconds tick by. Her vision became distorted, her mind swirling around her. There was Yuuki's threat; there were emotions, kind emotions Megumi didn't even know had existed; there were memories.

A lot of memories.

Memories of how annoying Kaori was, always kicking dust on her dress, while looking like a total loser with practically no life of her own. Memories of how they used played together, Megumi as the princess, Kaori as the soldier. Memories of how trustworthy Megumi believed Kaori to be, and how grateful she was that the young girl kept every secret locked within the contents of her heart.

She didn't know why she did it. After all, Kaori betrayed her, right? That witch was probably just waiting for Megumi to die, so that she could get close to Yuuki. That was what Tatsumi told her…anyways…and it was true! They were growing so very intimate, and it'd gotten to the point where if you looked at them from a certain angle, you'd think they were a couple! True, Megumi had died, but even from beyond the veil she was still entitled to Yuuki's feelings. That was the only justification the shiki needed to get payback, and even now, as Kaori lay there, dying, Megumi could just turn around and walk away.

Besides, Kaori would be just another body found in the morning. There were a lot of murderers in Tokyo, right? Human killers that had no connection to this dark world of hers were just like garbagemen, getting rid of anything Megumi didn't like. That's it, isn't it?

That was how she should've felt!

But for some reason, Megumi opened her mouth, and whispered, _Sleep for a while. _

And just like that, Kaori obeyed.

Megumi felt herself move forward. She felt the files slip from her fingers, those precious documents crashing on the soiled ground, covered with mud and water. She saw her legs carrying her body toward the vampire, the ax already slipping from her arm. And in that split second, she was suddenly in front of the assailant, arms raised high above her head.

She decapitated the mysterious woman right then and there.

The head lopped away from the body cleanly. The woman collapsed right on top of Kaori. Megumi stood there for a few moments, unsure of what had actually happened. Her glassed-over eyes repeatedly asked her about such an unrealistic dream, about some moral they never knew she had. Then, without thinking, her arms reached out and swept the young girl away from that creature.

Megumi was surprised at how light Kaori had become. She was always incredibly skinny, but in the shiki's eyes, she looked emaciated. The blood still flowed from the human's flesh, holding fast to her fresh blouse. Megumi only needed one smell to know that Kaori wasn't infected, unlike Ken, or even the woman lying over there.

She laid Kaori near the sidewalk and went to examine the dead vampire. She crouched down, those bright, red pupils shining within the darkness. She pursed her lips, then stood again, pondering on just how much trouble Haru was going to get into.

The vampire had on a high school uniform, with colors she knew all too well.

Megumi went over to the head. She picked it up, and searched its astonished expression for something, anything, that could give her the slightest of hints. A drop of blood escaped from the corner of the girl's lips, so Megumi took a tiny lick, and shuddered. The revolting smell, the disgusting taste; first that boy, then this girl…

They were following someone.

The problem is…she didn't know _who._

She sighed frustratedly, but decided to save the head for later; maybe Yuuki would know it. She quickly rushed to Kaori and scooped the girl in her arms. Megumi cradled her broken arm along her torso, and made sure the head was supported fully. The moon was still high, and there's bound to be some hospital nearby. After all, in this cruel, merciless world, there had to be some nice things about it, just to even things out.

She started walking. Their shadows formed one big, ugly shape in Megumi's eyes, so it wasn't long before she started whispering, those bottled up, hateful emotions spilling from her throat.

"I never liked you," she said loudly. "You were always so annoying. You never understood me at all, and you were so quick to judge. You were just like everyone else in that stupid village. And you know what? I'm glad that backwoods got burned down."

She smirked at the silence, and continued. "When you got close to Yuuki, you can't believe how much I hated you then. I wanted you to suffer. He was mine, Kaori. You know how I felt about him." Megumi pictured Kaori's face in her mind as she spoke, happily drinking that horrific delusion. "There were an awful lot of vampires in Sotoba. There was one who told me that if I killed your dad, I could get payback.

"And that's exactly what I did! I killed him! And it felt great!"

She repeated those lines again and again and again, addicted to that uncertain paradox. "I like making the people I hate suffer! I loved it so much! You can't imagine the feeling! When you were there, acting all scared, I laughed so hard!"

Megumi had been talking for so long, that she hadn't even noticed that she was out of the neighborhood. Rather, she was in some park, callously wandering about, with a half-dead girl in her arms, who by now, was barely clinging to life. She didn't know how long she aimlessly drifted. She didn't know how long she had that warmth in her hands, the familiar scent of home coming off from a long forgotten childhood.

Then, something strange occurred. As the shiki kept bragging more and more, about how great her life was now, about how she won the internship, about how she was going to live a big, gorgeous life in the city, an excuse she grew tired of so very long ago, a deep, dark dread started flowing from the pit of her stomach.

What was that emotion? Loneliness? Pain? Loss? The sudden, blinding realization when you realized that drug-induced high was over? The fact that you had nothing left? No home to go to, besides the one you already ruined? No friends in the world, except for the one you're lying to? Really, what was that cold, icy feeling, a feeling that had already scorched her heart in its hellish tendrils? Megumi never knew.

At some point in the night, Megumi came to a hospital. The nurses all rushed forward, with Megumi handing the girl over, like a fragile mirror cracking underneath the weight of her fingertips. She gave them her body, and was about to leave, when one of the nurses stopped her. "Miss?"

Megumi gave her a pointed glare. "What?" she snapped.

The nurse paused a bit, thinking over her rash behavior, before letting Megumi escape into the night.


	31. Chapter 31

Haru kept pacing around the hotel room, frantically trying to undo what he'd just seen yesterday. Beads of sweat swept down his forehead, alongside violent tremors that kept his muscles from relaxing. The adrenaline was overflowing, and his heartbeat was tuning itself to the sound of those chaotic emotions. His footsteps bounced back against his thick skull. Asaka's decapitated head was still there, behind his eyelids.

He didn't know how long he'd been doing this, but whatever he was doing, it wasn't working.

Haru gave into his weariness a few hours later, and collapsed onto the bed. Though the silk covers greeted his skin in its finery, and the soft surface eased his physical pain, Haru couldn't bring himself relax. He couldn't shut his eyes, couldn't calm himself down, couldn't go to sleep, for fear they'd somehow sneak into the room and torture him. He clutched the blankets, and tried slowing his breathing. He jolted right back up.

He threw off his shirt and pants, and once again, tried creeping back underneath the covers. He pulled the cold pillows over his head, trying to block out their words, and endeavored to induce his very own sleep-deprived coma. Again, no use.

Frustratedly, he sat up, and rubbed his eyes. He pulled himself to the very edge of the bed, the rays of sun slipping behind the white curtains. Mr. Fawn told Haru that he would have someone bring the deposit to the hotel, and that he wouldn't allow Haru leave the city until the boy received it. There was always that disturbing playfulness tittering jubilantly in Mr. Fawn, guiding his mind like a sweet demon, unwilling to allow anyone to ruin his fun. It was unforgiving, and it was cruel, and those were the only words Haru could describe it with. He swept his hair aside, and stood.

It was amazing, how the world just kept moving like that, like nothing was ever wrong. The busy streets sounded their usual bustling noises and cries. Motorcycles sped through the streets, cars honked at idiotic pedestrians, and even in the distance, Haru could hear police sirens going off. It was funny, how easily he could imagine those conversations right now. School, work, family life…the normality of the tones alone managed to incite envy.

There was a sudden knock on the door. Haru turned, the alarm burning in his chest, as he stayed there, frozen in place. A few seconds, then a few minutes, then finally, another knock.

He blinked, returning from his thoughts. Hurriedly, he pulled on his shirt and pants, and went to the door. He barely creaked it open, when a small, white envelop slipped through the opening.

"Your compensation," a businesslike voice said promptly, before slamming the door shut. The walls vibrated in rich ecstasy, followed by the torrent of footsteps waltzing away from the room.

His eyes slid to the envelop lying on the ground. Slowly, he bent down, picked up the letter, and held it up against the light. With trembling fingers, he tore open the letter, and caught a glimpse of the number sprawled across it.

Two hundred thousand yen.

And an additional one hundred thousand in cold hard cash.

Haru found a note between the bills, and he pulled it out. His eyes narrowed, as he reread the note once, twice, then three times over. He sighed, then stuffed the note into his pocket. He put the money back in the envelop, and looked up, as if suddenly realizing something, in that unreadable expression of his. He packed whatever belongings both he and Asaka had, turned off the lights, then left the room as it was.

The lobby was different from how Haru remembered it. He looked around at the various strangers surrounding him, from the weary travelers who had no extravagant story to tell, to those powerful, influential people, who had everything to lose on their latest gambles, to even those mysterious guests who resided nearest to the hearths. Big and small, old and young, bright, dark…Haru simply couldn't see himself as another of the guests. He was completely, and utterly isolated. Even as he walked out, knowing full well the hotel had been paid for, he couldn't help but look back, searching frantically for some answer.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time for such exploits.

The limousine was parked in its usual, grandiose spot. It seemed to taunt him with that sophisticated haughtiness, its reflections staring him down. However, Haru brushed it aside and stepped into the car. He settled into his seat, contenting himself with gazing out the window. The atmosphere seemed quieter than usual, and there was a lot less tension. The air was almost freer, in a very callous, morbid way.

As the limo drove off, away from the grand hotel, away from the city, away from the condemnation the predators put him under, Haru pondered on the business transaction, on the somewhat brutal compromise and everything in it. Mr. Fawn was willing to pay him fifty thousand a month as his base salary, meaning Haru could "afford something better than that old shack"; the extra one hundred thousand was just incentive. He will be granted access to everything in that company, the lower levels included. The man's networks were also at Haru's disposal.

"Of course, if you _do_ go to the authorities for this," Mr. Fawn reminded him, "we won't hesitate destroying you."

Haru didn't like this situation at all, but in a way, it was also an answer to his prayers. He could pay Megumi back for all she's done for him, all the while showing her her that he could take care of himself now, that he didn't need to rely on anyone else financially. He could help Natsuno with everything he asked for.

But what's more,_ h_e could do everything he wanted to now; go to a college, travel abroad, see the world in all its entirety. The very image of he, Natsuno, and Megumi going everywhere together, seeing if Americans really did eat a lot of hamburgers, if Paris was as grand as they say, if Britain was always depressing and rainy, was like a happy end to his monstrous thriller of a life. They could go to Canada, or Britain, or Spain, or all those other places his mother once mentioned.

Haru started laughing, blocking the salty tears with one hand.

The excuse was so ridiculous he was dying of embarrassment.

What difference did it make? He couldn't do anything about his current predicament; he was helpless enough as it is. The creature squirming in that cage was still prodding his mind with its disgusting innocence, the pain so very real with every movement it made. He's seen the unnatural way its limbs were arranged; he's heard that desperate howl escape from throat; he's felt that revolting humidity on his skin, scented heavily with iron and organs. It wasn't beautiful at all, nor was it graceful, nor elegant, nor anything Mr. Fawn described it. It was a monster.

And it was suffering.

How many people have seen a beast like that, at all in their lifetimes? But really, that was the wrong question to ask. After all, how many people were actually involved in the yakuza?

For a while, Haru was living a very good illusion; he had friends, a home, people who were waited for him. He had a girl he liked, a friend he could count on, and a growing confidence that became more and more radiant everyday, and it got to the point where he almost forgot his real life completely. The lie was a welcome distraction, yet, at the same time, it was possibly the only thing Haru clung to, an anchorage to prevent himself from being swept away by a truth that was so very broken, that was so filthy and ugly he couldn't help but turn somewhere else. He was ashamed to even be associated with something so unpleasant as that.

But now what? That dreamlike mirror was broken, shattered into a million pieces, flung away just before the dawn could shine upon it. Though he knew it was all just a lie, an act to persuade both Megumi and Natsuno to look for a person that never existed, it was still a good one. He enjoyed it, every step of the way, from the time he met Megumi in the Suicide Forest, to those last moments with Natsuno, just before he left for Azura. Though the two always fought, Haru was grateful that they cared for him so readily; unlike so many other people, they didn't just let him fall. He was, for the first time in his life, happy.

And he would do anything to preserve that happiness.

For some reason, the drive was slower than Haru remembered, but nevertheless, he managed to make it back. Night had already fallen. He stepped out reluctantly, looking around for any sign of his friends. Did Megumi already leave? And where was Natsuno? He told Haru they would still be here by the time he got back.

From the corner of his eyes, a shadow appeared from behind the column. As the shadow stepped closer, a slow, sad smile stretched across Haru's face.

Megumi.

She was lovely, as always, in the dark, cool evening. She was dressed in a tiny, black dress, with a black corset wrapped around her waist. Her skull patterned ribbons beautifully decorated her rosette hair, and her pale skin shimmered along the lines of darkness. Her red, ripped stockings adorned her legs beautifully, with a makeshift, rose amulet embracing her left leg. There was a grey bag slung over her shoulders.

She saw the confusion in his eyes, and smiled back. "He's away at the moment. But he'll come by tomorrow. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Haru nodded contently. "Do you need any help getting to Omotesando?"

"No, I'll be alright. That reminds me; I'll be living a bit farther ways from now. And with the new internship, we can't meet up as often."

"T-that's fine." Haru scratched the back of his head. "I'll still come see you. Where are you staying?"

She seemed hesitant. Though Haru kept his composure, her expression was a very crushing blow. He bit down his tongue, bits of blood pouring into his mouth, as he resisted the urge to say…anything.

But the moment was brief. Megumi stepped forward and grabbed his hand. "Shakunetsu no bara. That's the company I'm working with right now. I live around there; look for a glass apartment complex, alright? I'm living on the eighth floor."

He blinked, surprised at her answer. Megumi smirks, then, in one motion, she stepped up and kissed him on the cheek. A dark flush creeped against his cheeks, his hands flinging to the area. "W-wha…?"

"Come visit any time you like. I can't guarantee I'll answer the door, but you already know where the keys are."

Haru had to watch her leave after that, greeting the darkness in that enigmatic way of hers. The loneliness was more than he could bear when she was gone.

* * *

Natsuno stood over the railways of Azura station, searching through the various existences the region had to offer. His eyes were closed, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his back against the iron columns, as he shifted through the people that passed him by. There was a certain, bloody scent he was tracking, which was easily drifting from person to person. It was so very sweet, unlike that filth the strange intruder presented in Yume and Ken, and it seemed so tempting it captured Natsuno's tastebuds, almost like a cold, refreshing drink in the middle of a hot desert.

But for some reason, the jinrou was having a hard time following it.

He opened his eyes and look around. No one seemed out of place, nor did anyone here harbor that scent. He narrowed his eyes and straightened himself. He walked into the night air, and began following the aroma. He could feel his fangs from the roof of his mouth, as he trudged across the pavement, unable to focus on anything else.

His brain screamed for him to run.

Natsuno could very well detect the same, powerful vibe. The image of their bodies kept popping up in his mind, and the suspicions all came rushing back to him. He weaved through the crowds deftly, all the while trying not to lose track of that murderous feast; he knew better than to partake in that buffet. As his footsteps grew faster and faster, the individual forms of each human became blurry, hazy, as if they were suddenly wiped away in their slate of importance, fading away within that fast approaching darkness.

He stopped at a tall office building. All the lights were out, the windows shut, the sign CLOSED printed in very large, clear letters. Natsuno briskly paced through the stairways and opened the glass doors, the scent bombarding him in its instant delicacy.

He took a step back, then turned around. Funny, how no one notices a guy entering a place as suspicious as this. Well, he did get a few looks, but they were so dazed over, their eyes glassy and dreamlike, that Natsuno never expected them to intervene. In fact, it'd be weird if they did.

He shut the doors behind him, and turned his attention to the empty space around him. He covered the openings of his ears, his eyes boring the surface of the black and white tiles around him, colors that made up the life of this grand, empty lobby. He could feel the vibrations of a shiki's footsteps; they radiated from every fiber of his being, and as they ascended, somehow, his shadow followed. He heard the tiny crack of the very top door, and put his hands down.

The roof.

As Natsuno followed the spiraling pathways, the city lights growing increasingly different, he mentally began sorting out the information that was so easily handed to him. There were two people; one vampire, the other…the other one he couldn't tell. The companion certainly wasn't human, but he wasn't shiki either; he was more like a combination of the two. Yes, that must be it; someone like he or Shimizu wouldn't have been able to give off such sweet scented blood in the first place. But there was only one set of footsteps Natsuno heard; was the shiki carrying his companion?

Again, his tongue reveled in the taste of its blood, in the veins that would give him the necessary fuel he needed, in the purity that must be hidden within the arteries, so much so he wouldn't even need to depend on the alcohol-filled streets of Tokyo. But he's already so familiar with that revolting sensation, that he ceased moving altogether by the time he reached the roof. He turned the knob anyways, and opened the door.

Like any other good rooftop, it was empty, with nothing but depressing despair to fill the void. There were no fences, no railings nothing at all to help catch those unfortunate victims who fell prey to accidents, or suicide, or both. The wind was harsher up here, offering no relief to whoever was stranded outside, smashing against them with everything the previously compassionate zephyr never had. There were no stars up ahead as there were in Sotoba, and only the waning moon spread its already dim light along the brink of the laughing umbras.

Natsuno cautiously walked outside and shut the door. His eyes picked out the stray contour standing near the edge. He turned to the stranger; black hair, which blended so well into the night, and deep, black eyes. Natsuno could see no pupils residing in them, and when he did, crimson filled them, along with that insatiable thirst he knew all too well. He wore a dark red shirt with skulls surrounding the center of his chest, and black shorts which showed off the sickly pale of his legs. There was something protruding from the knees, something that reminded Natsuno of broken bones. There was no bleed seeping from the wound, nor were there any signs of any infections; it seemed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Natsuno took another step toward the shiki, and stopped short a few yards in front of him. His eyes searched everywhere for the other person.

At last, his dark eyes flickers toward the boy's. "What'd you want?"

The boy smiles sympathetically, a cruel gleam present at the brink of his lips. He was sitting cross-legged on the cold ground, humming his own little tune. Just when Natsuno was going to speak again, the boy held up his hand. "I just want to meet our new neighbor, that's all." he explained happily.

"I don't live around here."

"Oh…well we do. We live everywhere. It's easy these days." The boy lifted his hand to stroke his companion, who lay there helplessly in his arms. He nuzzled his face along the sides of its neck, and looked up at Natsuno. "How long?"

"That's none of your concern."

"How dull." The boy brushed away the slightest trace of dust from the body's clothes, and lifted his fingernails, examining their apparent filthiness. "I was turned when I was only fifteen. I was a kid, I think. Never bothered anyone, always kept to myself, helped out the neighbors whenever I had the time…"

He drew those fingers back to his lips, giving them a warmth he never possessed. "The teacher always liked me. So after school was over, she changed me. Cool, huh?"

Natsuno leaned against the door's cold surface, his eyes never leaving the boy's. "You killed her, right?"

"Right!" he said happily, clapping his hands in one, rhythmic pulse. "She liked me, but I never really liked her. She violated me, so I ended up violating her. I desecrated her grave, murdered her family, drove her friends insane…did all the things a good little boy should. But that's expected, you know? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, and she really was a monstrous teacher, wouldn't you agree? There really isn't any surprise that her students would turn out just like her-"

"What do you want?" Natsuno repeated forcefully.

The boy blinked, and for a moment, he stared at Natsuno with those black, endless holes. Finally, he nods, ready to cease this whimsical, pointless moment. "You're new to Tokyo, right?" he stated in that cheerful tone. "We just wanted to know if you were adjusting okay."

"We?"

"My partner and I." He leans forth, that little smile still on his face. "So? How are you doing? Liking the atmosphere so far?"

Natsuno shrugged. His eyes were carefully planted on the boy's, searching out for some other hidden motive embedded in that tiny frame of his. This was the one. This was the guy that bit Ken and Yume. But why?

Why would he just show himself out in the open?

The boy went on, like nothing was wrong. "Well?"

It just occurred to Natsuno that he hadn't answered. So he gave this weird visitor an uneasy smile, and said, "Yeah, it's nice."

"Oh, good. We like it when people are happy. That makes us happy."

"I…I see…" Natsuno kept glancing at that makeshift doll the child was holding in his arms uneasily, all the while the boy chatted on and on about the sites in Tokyo, the tourist attractions, the restaurants, what places to avoid. Finally, he registered Natsuno's uncomfortable position, and rapidly looked down at the somewhat dead organism. He beamed. "Yeah! My partner gave this to me! Isn't the slut beautiful?"

Slut? Natsuno leaned forward a bit more. That same, delicious scent kept diffusing into the air, and it didn't take long for Natsuno to realize where it was coming from.

The boy saw Natsuno's inquiring face, and proceeded to explain further. "Sorry. I know that's not a nice word, but that's all I could call him. I mean, he's killed so many people with that little smile on his face, and he's broken so many moral codes that's the only thing I can call him! Say hi!"

The boy waved the arms around in a disgusting fashion, as if the doll was having an extremely violent seizure. His arms were stitched to his neck, with a thumb missing from each of his hands. The legs were routed so that they would stick to the bottom of the pelvic region; the genitals were nowhere to be found. There was no head either, only a rounded tip from the mount of the doll's neck. It writhed in pain, embedded to tiny heart pacers, needles, and tubes that stuck out of his throat. His stomach protruded disgustingly, and his skin was so clear Natsuno could see all the organs, spilling out from their natural places. All the liquid was gone, and even the spinal chord was starting to give in.

Natsuno never heard what the tiny boy had to say next. It was all he could do just to keep himself from maiming the vampire right then. His fists clenched, but he kept himself from doing anything rash. "It…it looks…nice…" he barely managed to say. "Where'd you get it?"

"My partner made it for me, like I-oh, that's what you meant. Well, he got it off the streets somewhere far away. He was trash, and then my partner fixed him right up. He had this weird scent on him, and I didn't like it. Smells nice now, right?"

"R-right." Natsuno turned his heel then, and began walking away.

"H-hey, wait!" the tiny boy screamed desperately. "Where're you going?"

Natsuno couldn't even face the boy then. But he simply smiled, and hid the killing intent bubbling from his veins. "I've still got a ways from here. I just wanted to see the town, that's all."

"O-oh…my bad! Oh hey, mister!"

Natsuno turned then, surprisingly calm, the pleasantries shaping on his face. The sudden facade took both him by surprise, but it was amiable enough for Natsuno to know the boy let down his guard. "Hmm?"

"Will you be back again? You know, my partner and I could use a lot of help, you know!"

"Help?"

The boy nodded vigorously, blushing with pride and shame. "Y-yeah! See, there are these really bad people out there, and we're trying to hunt them down. No one likes it when people stick their noses in places they don't belong, so could you please-?"

Natsuno continued his act. "Of course. Do you know them at all?"

"U-um…" the child kept playing with the creature's limbs, causing Natsuno to wince. "N-no. But we're asking everyone here to help out! So… could you…you know…?"

Natsuno gave the boy a confident smile. "Yeah. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you. My name's Toma, by the way."

Natsuno couldn't even introduce himself; the words were lodged in his throat. He was grateful when the boy named Toma allowed him to leave the rooftop, a now dead Asaka still in his arms.


	32. Chapter 32

Megumi entered the apartment, with a bag firmly on her shoulders, as she brushed the ever so diligent humans around her, who were working throughout the hours. Though it was midnight, a surprising amount of humans were still here, working under the burning candlelight. It was as if they themselves were shiki, sucking the life of potential customers, friends, acquaintances, sometimes even family. Yet in the end, she could make out the shadows dwelling beneath their eye, the diseases that were beginning to take hold of their weakened immune systems; she could see their defenselessness, and flinched at the sight.

The lobby was modern, sophisticated, not at all what she had in mind. In fact, she felt a bit overwhelmed by the adult world. Her own outfit caused people to stare at her a little, their own business suites and serious expressions making her feel more than inadequate. They kept to themselves, and went off into their own world, without even acknowledging her. It was so different from what she was used to; when she looked around, for some reason, she kept searching for a familiar face in the crowds, hoping that they could show her what unspoken rule was being broken, what she was supposed to do in a society like this. No such luck.

So she stayed there for a moment, taking in the expensive portraits on the walls, the local restaurants settled between the staircases, the luxurious rugs decorating the floors. A chandelier hung from the top, spreading around a harmless, golden light, the stones reflecting every little color that came their way. The main desk was in the middle of the room, with four people working on the computers, their fingers typing at such inhuman speeds. She took a deep breath, and walked up to the front desk.

Was she in the right building?

The woman looked up, and automatically, Megumi marveled at how clean she looked. A tight bund kept her hair from sticking out, and her uniform reminded Megumi of the company representatives back at the fashion show. Megumi's lips went dry, and she found it quite difficult to speak. "E-excuse me?" she said in a timid voice. "I'm Miyuki."

The woman nodded satisfactorily. The typing stopped, and her fingers expertly swirled over and grabbed the keys sitting beside her. Her eyes briefly examined her for a moment, before smiling professionally. "You've got two copies. The third one here is for the pool, on the top floor. You've already paid this month's rent, right?"

"I-I have."

"Then welcome back, Ms. Miyuki."

"Thank you." She bowed, then left, tugging the bag closer to her shoulders. The area itself wasn't cheap, but it was surprising at how much money she had left. She lived so close to where she'd be working, so that was an added bonus. And though Omotesando is a bit farther from where Haru was, she didn't mind; if he ever needed to stay somewhere, this place will do just fine. She'll even pay for the taxi.

Megumi saw an open elevator, and hurriedly rushed in. She pushed the button labeled _8,_ and soon, the sleek iron doors closed behind her. While she ascended, she turned around, and peaked out the machine's windows, windows that gave her a glimpse of what was happening outside.

The entire hotel was surrounded activity, legal and illegal, and the lights were so frantic she could see the shadows dancing their hearts away, trying to fascinate everyone with their predictable actions. She looked off to the horizon, seeing Tokyo Tower in the distance, with that blinking crimson light on top. There were a lot of police sirens in that direction too, along with a speeding car that was endeavoring to run everyone over. Right next to the commotion was a concert. The pop idols laid bare their innocence for everyone to see, boys and girls alike, as they pranced around in those awkward looking costumes. They looked like complete idiots up there; there was too much light, too many sparkles, so much so Megumi had to turn away.

She still can't believe she wanted to get scouted.

Megumi walked out of the elevator, her heels striking the floors. The keys jingled from her hands as she fumbled with them. She was about to unlock the door when it suddenly swung open.

Yuuki.

He wore a white shirt that night, with black jeans wrapped tightly around his legs. His hair was soaking wet, and though he gestured her inside, Megumi stood there; she almost had to turn away, that familiar, embarrassing heat creeping along her cheeks. However, she narrowed her eyes when his normally sweet scent reached her nostrils. She walked in, that dreadful curiosity claiming her attention.

For financial reasons, Megumi decided to get a studio apartment. It wasn't at all bad; the dark brown floorboards greeted her ecstatically, and there was so much space here Megumi felt she could practically do anything here. There was a second floor receding in the background, with a spiral staircase inviting her to join its balcony. To Megumi's dismay, the windows were enlarged; though the curtains would fit, a few rays would still seep in through the cracks. And though the view was gorgeous, the scene was always the same in her eyes; it was so repetitive it'd gotten to be a bit boring.

She sat on that old, beat up couch and set the bag down. Yuuki approached her, slamming the door behind him, and leaned against the steel columns near the windows, his bare feet sweeping away the dust on the floor. "Did you feed already?"

"No. I ran into someone."

His eyes trailed to the bag sitting next to her. What must he be thinking, at that moment? What was going on in that complex mind of his? She knew he could see the blood seeping through the fibers, though the aroma was hidden from the both of them. "I found our little friend." he finally replies.

She paused, the shock welling up inside her throat. "Why didn't you take him out?" she managed at last.

"He was using Asaka's body like a toy." He strolled toward the worn out table, and leaned against the edge. "He's also got a partner."

Megumi settled back, the very same confusion settling in her mind. "Was there anything else?"

"Apparently, there are a few bad guys around here, and they need to be taken care of."

That was all. Megumi's dark holes bore the windows in front of her, her reflection gazing back in that very same emotional intensity. Her leg was protectively guarding the bag, while her hands were neatly placed on her lap. In a way, she looked like a mannequin, ready for its next outfit; how ironic. She took a deep breath. "Is…is that…?"

"Most likely," Yuuki said with a shrug. "You're a given, and I killed someone from Daiki's group. I was also there when the hospital burned down." He smirked emptily, putting his hands in his pockets. "I didn't think they were the type to care for their subordinates. Well, they proved me wrong."

"But I…"

Yuuki turned to her, his dark eyes matching her own. "It was a big fire Shimizu. Anyone could have seen it."

"So what?" she said then, the hysteria building up inside her chest. "They just _conveniently_ decided to connect some really far off dots-?"

Megumi froze.

She slowly looked up to Yuuki, who turned away in that same epiphany. That was it. _That was it. _"Amber Fawn, right?" she suddenly asked. "She was the one in the cage?"

"Yeah."

"She was the previous Baroness. And that model, Yume-"

"-is probably the next one." he finished. "The police aren't looking for her because her parents said they never had a daughter. He probably bit them to keep things quiet." He grew quiet, contemplative, before at last, he rubbed his temple at his own mistake. "The body I found was a fake."

Megumi blinked. "Was the corpse torn up that badly?"

"It was. She was sliced in half, and her heart was missing. If some wayward vampire decided to turn her, without the circulatory or nervous system, the girl won't rise up. Even if she did, it's not like she could live that long anyways."

Megumi agreed. From the way Haru described her, she was annoying, but lively; she longed for people to look at her, to see her in all her delusional glory. She wanted someone, anyone, to seek her out, so much so she was willing to blind herself into believing she could just waltz into a person's life and order them around. If she returned, and tried living out her life like she had, all she would find is a brutal awakening.

Megumi clutched the cushions, her fingernails piercing the soft fabric. It was alarming, how much of this has already played out. "They knew we were going to investigate. They _knew-"_

"That doesn't mean they know who _we_ are."

Megumi looked up, grasping onto that same conclusion. "What was that guy's name?"

"Toma. Doesn't look like they know much else, aside from the fact they need culprits to accuse. However," Yuuki closed his eyes, sitting himself on the table, "I think he's lying."

"You think he's got his own agenda?"

"Yes. Now then," Yuuki opened his eyes. He slouched over, his elbows on his knees, though she saw every muscle in his body tense. "What's in the bag?"

Megumi leaned over and placed the bag on her legs. She unzipped the delicate thing, and pulled out the woman's head from it. She watched as Yuuki's eyes widened, that familiar revolting scent diffusing across the room.

The rate of decay was surprising. Most of her hair had already fallen out, leaving a bald, bloody mess in Megumi's hand. Her eyes were wide, the whites blocking out every attempt to show her feral ferocity. The veins were enlarged around her neck, with tiny hints of blue spreading from the bottom. Her mouth was open, twisted into a very large smile, and that bright, crimson lipstick smeared on her lips, as well as the overflowing massacre, made her look like some undead clown. Her fangs were too long, with the sharp ends piercing her gums.

"Where?" she heard Yuuki ask.

Megumi's grip on the skull tightened. At this point, she knew she couldn't lie to him; it was just too risky. She hated Kaori, but that didn't mean she could allow Haru to get hurt. She straightened. "While I was on the way here, I saw her attacking Kaori."

She watched the expression on Yuuki's face change into something darker, deadlier. She hadn't seen that face before, so she looked away, the uncomfortable threats lingering in the air. "I've no idea what their connection is. But Kaori's got a broken arm, and she's lost a lot of blood. She's been a hit a lot of times, too."

"Did you leave her there?" The anger in his voice was obvious enough to make Megumi grimace. Yet the very memory of it kept her calm; in fact, she was even a bit frustrated with him.

"No. I took her to the local hospital nearby."

The surprise on his face made Megumi feel all the more guilty. A million needles endlessly jabbed at her brain, filling her with envious thoughts, wrapped up nicely in seething rage. But at the same time, that black, hazy ink was still there, churning her insides messily, to the point Megumi had to block out every sensation. "I got a good look at the attacker, and I saw the uniform on her. It looks like she goes to the very same school Haru goes to."

"That's…not good."

Megumi sat there, staring at her knees, reworking their original hypothesis. These guys weren't like the Kirishikis; they were organized, and they were so embedded into the system there wasn't much room for extraneous goals. Kaori had been attacked twice; one was brutally obsessive, the other full of malice. Those chaotic emotions were just so easy to manipulate, that Toma might not even have had to do a lot on his part. She saw herself, in that respect, and she resisted the urge to stuff the head back, knowing full well her past would replay itself over and over again tonight.

Yuuki scrutinized the head. "She's been that way for a while now. I'll go to the police station tomorrow morning and see what I can dig up."

"I don't have a name."

"That's fine."

* * *

Kaori woke up to a very bad ache in her left arm.

And a horrid throbbing.

And some kid shaking her violently, screaming for her not to die.

The weariness cleared from Kaori's eyes immediately. There was Akira's crying face over her, the panic setting inside his trembling pupils; he looked even more vulnerable then before, and the remorse crushed her so badly. Behind him, Mr. Yuuki stood there, worriedly looking over her, while conversing with someone.

She blinked at the whiteness of the room, the fresh antiseptic greeting her in its daily routine. There were muffled voices from what looked like a bookshelf; the television was on. The remote was lying on the ground, with two chairs seated next to the bed. She heard the soft patter of the rain on the window across from her. Dark clouds ominously gathered over, their menacing expressions carved into their own being. The fluorescent lights from above gave the moment a bit more suspense need be. On the desk next to her, there was a glass vase with daisies in them, along with a card that read _Get well soon- Love. _She couldn't help but giggle at the notion.

"Mr. Yuuki!" Akira screamed. "She's alive! She's alive!"

Fortunately, the doctor yanked him away from her bedside. She smiled gratefully, as Mr. Yuuki replaced the frantic boy. "Are you alright?" he asked, that gentleness supporting her once again.

Kaori thought back to the moment, but her brain suddenly grew disoriented. The doctor steadied her. Her eyes kept gazing down at the covers nearby, her left arm slung in a cast. She had a bit of a hard time breathing, and it felt like she was going to throw up any time now. She looked at Mr. Yuuki. "I'm fine," she whispered softly.

She gazed at his confused face for a while, before turning to the doctor. "How'd…how'd I get here?"

"A friend of yours brought you here," he answered promptly. "A good thing too; the storm was just about to blow in."

"How'd I…end up…?"

"That's what we'd like you to tell us," Mr. Yuuki explained. His hand pressed itself against her forehead. It was warm, so she let it. "Can you remember anything?"

Kaori shook her head.

She never heard what Mr. Yuuki said next. Right behind him, the television was on, relaying the events of the day. Akira sat there obediently, but even from here, she could see him shaking, trying to put on a brave front with all his effort. She looked up at the screen. What was he watching anyways?

Her lips parted slightly.

That was the news. That was the news he was watching.

And there it was. Yuki's name. Sprawled across in big, ugly letters at the bottom of the screen.

She heard a knock at the door. The figure stepped in, his police uniform not at all affected by the storms surrounding the hospital. His eyes were red, his face botched, and his skin was pale, paler than Kaori had seen in a long time. There were dark lines under his eyes, and when he looked up at her, it seemed like he was going to break down at any second. "Mr. Saito," she greeted quietly.

The doctor stood up, and attempted to usher the police officer out. However, Mr. Yuuki stopped the man from doing so. He shot Kaori a comforting look. "Everyone's worried about you." he said. "Get better, alright?"

"Alright."

And with that, he left, dragging a reluctant Akira with him, with the doctor following in suit. She looked up at Mr. Saito. He had a notepad in his hands, along with a pencil, that was tightly gripping onto his fingers. There was none of that usual warmth in his eyes. "Is everything-?"

"Ms. Tanaka," he interrupted, "I'd like for you to answer a few questions, if that's alright with you."

"Of…course."

His dark, tired eyes kept staring at her suspiciously, as if piecing together some sort of motive Kaori never knew she had. The realization hit her hard.

"Mr. Saito-"

Then, as if in a daze, he glared at her with blank eyes, and muttered, "Shut up, you _bitch_."


	33. Chapter 33

Natsuno held the black umbrella against his shoulder, the rain falling softly along the dismal skies. Cars rolled past him, their bright, golden headlights making the streets look like rivers, and the faint sound of torrents from the underground filled the unnecessary silence. Leaves of every color kept getting trampled on the ground, shaking in the first of the frost bite. Barren trees stuck out on the streets, the lanterns forcefully wringing them into submission, with their tiny candles shivering amongst the cold. People shoved each other out of the way, trying to get to wherever they needed to go; some fell to the ground, hastily picking up their belongings, then leaving without a trace, while others got swept away in an obsessive search for warmth, as they made their way to the various restaurants and hotels, cheap and expensive alike, endeavoring to force their way in.

His old habit never truly died out, did it?

He stopped in front of the police station, the faint light barely stretching out to the hem of his combat boots. He looked around again, searching for something familiar in the crowds, though he didn't know what. But whatever it, it was just a passing, so Natsuno turned away and walked up the stairs. He opened the doors, and was greeted by those same hypnotic looks.

He closed the umbrella and shook off the droplets. One of the officers approached him kindly, with that content light in his eyes. "Good morning Mr. Koide," he said kindly. "What can we do for you today?"

"Where's Saito?"

"Just right down the hall, last door on your left." Natsuno nodded. He set his umbrella down and stepped inside. They all looked at him with those same smiles drawn on their faces, not even realizing what was happening to their already deteriorating wills. He didn't particularly like having to use them like this, so he smiled back reluctantly, giving into their persistence.

The dark, damp corridors were musty as usual. The faceless forms of the interrogation offices settled upon the muffled screams pouring from out of the victims, from cries to pleas to that simple refusal. He stopped at one closed door, raising his eyes at the suspect's unique circumstances.

However, Natsuno quickly lost interest and kept walking, hazily drifting from story to story. Theft, vandalism, jay-walking, the illegal possession of drugs; he might've heard the word "yakuza" escape from the detective's lip at one point, which caused an all out argument on why the suspect was here to begin with. Yet the profanity never fazed the shiki; Natsuno's been here long enough to catch on to every single crime that happened, new and old alike. Though their tales were a bit different, the excuses were the same unfortunately. It's gotten so mundane that he could easily predict what interrogation methods the detective will use, truth or lie, and how the suspect maintains their innocence, even though they were guilty beyond doubt.

Finally, he stops at the last door, the loudest of them all. Mr. Saito was, normally, a very calm man, but Natsuno has heard rumors of what would happen if someone had gone and pissed him off. A majority of the officers here pitied the poor creature that went and destroyed his sanity. He could hear them whispering helplessly for the girl.

Natsuno heard the one-sided conversation going on, the screaming growing more and more intense. "Just tell the truth!" Saito shouted darkly. "What _exactly _were you doing that night?"

The suspect didn't answer.

"We've been at this for more than two hours! Just give me something, and I'll let you go."

"I already did." the girl whispered quietly.

Natsuno nodded, and crossed his arms on his chest. He loosened a bit, though the surprise still came to him so readily.

Kaori.

The girl who was now being confronted by Mr. Saito wasn't the same girl he left back at the hospital. Her mature voice rang in his ears, and her tranquil demeanor kept the entire room from launching into the emotional turbulence other interrogations suffered from. She'd grown up a lot.

Shimizu told him she brought Kaori to a hospital, and when he looked through the window, he could make out the white sling across her shoulders. She had bruises and scars all over her face, and in essence, it looked like she'd been attacked. Her hair was longer than he remembered, the dark strands covering the soiled bandages wrapped around her head. She was frustrated, that much he could tell, but her cool, emotionless eyes betrayed nothing. There was still a bit of blood seeping from her wounds. That same bloody scent was on Saito, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to frighten the girl into submission.

He dragged her from the hospital.

"You were there, weren't you?" Saito inquired, the hostility in his voice coming to a gradual halt. "You were there, when my daughter was attacked."

"I was," she answered. "I had nothing to do with it though."

"Then who did?" he demanded. "Don't act all sweet and innocent; who the hell forgets something like that? She was beheaded, you were beaten half to death, and somehow, you're in the hospital the next second."

"I told you before, I don't know how I got there. I didn't see what happened to Yuki."

"A lot of the neighbors heard shouting. They all tell me that _you _were the one who threatened her."

Natsuno narrowed his eyes. Kaori wouldn't do that. She wasn't like Shimizu or Haru; she'd think through things first, and she almost never followed her impulses. Besides which, she was a smart girl; she would never do anything that would get her into trouble, because she was the type to pass out whenever someone yelled at her doing something wrong. So it impressed Natsuno that she was able to keep calm, after all this time.

"I didn't say anything to her." was all Kaori answered.

Saito grunted. The two sat there, trying to determine which aspect of the argument was a lie. Natsuno could practically see the beads of sweat on Saito's face, since none of his methods were working at all. There was nothing he could do to get anymore information out of the girl, much to Natsuno's satisfaction.

"Did you make any progress…with Mr. Hitoshi's case yet?" she suddenly asked.

Saito grunted. "You mean Haruki's?"

"Y-yes."

"I'm asking the questions here-"

"None of your questions make any sense," Kaori interrupted in a hard voice. "I'm asking about my friend. I want to know if you've made any progress yet on his investigation."

He huffed, and leaned back against his seat. "This isn't the time or place for that-"

"Please."

Again, another tense silence. Natsuno closed his eyes, his mind picking out the very image of the room with perfect accuracy. There was Kaori, sitting at the table, unable to resign from her determination and unwavering will. There was Saito, seated directly opposite of her, snarling at her with those naive eyes of his. At last, he answered her. "We're still looking for the killer."

Hitoshi…Haruki Hitoshi?

That's right. He was that nurse Natsuno killed while he was still with Daiki. And Aito. And everyone else in the Bethlehem Hospital. He was the man who'd been bothering everyone in the tunnels. Everyone wanted him to come back, but for some reason, he refused. And…when ever someone did try to talk some sense into him…that was…

"I…see…" Kaori said softly.

"He was a good man."

"Did…did the autopsy report say anything else?"

"No, nothing much. He died at the Bethlehem Hospital, but that was it."

Natsuno could feel the time slipping away steadily, never once reclaiming its own, original form. He held one hand against his mouth, his mind reeling from the scene.

Was Kaori close to him? Did she know anything about him? Did she know how much trouble she caused for Daiki and the others?

Daiki.

The person who wanted to kill him for murdering his friend.

The person who lied to him, ever since he came to the tunnels.

Natsuno bit back a chuckle, rubbing his temples, as he listened to the now civilized conversation. Their muffled voices never reached his ears; in fact, it seemed as if their moments carried on without him. Frantically, he began trying to recall what he'd been thinking during that particular moment, trying to remember what anger was going through his head, to do that kind of thing.

But that's just it.

He couldn't remember.

His death, like so many others, swept past his brain easily. His face never even came into Natsuno's mind; it was only his struggle and last breath the jinrou had, and even that started to muddle with the memories of long ago.

So if Kaori wanted an explanation of why he would do something like that…he wouldn't have been able to give her an answer.

The screaming suddenly resumed, causing Natsuno to jolt. He hastily turned, Saito's voice becoming more aggressive than ever. It seemed that Kaori was just as astonished, for her shadow jumped, not knowing where this madness had come from. Gibberish poured from the man's mouth; the only thing Natsuno was able to make out was "Sotoba" and "witch". This went on for another hour, before finally, he decided to let Kaori go, after of course, he "finished some paperwork."

Natsuno followed Saito to his office, where he found angry man grumbling at teens and their "unacceptable behavior." Natsuno entered his doorway, placing himself at the center of the officer's line of sight. He allowed his eyes to reduce to their most primitive form, surveying Saito's pupils, and in that hypnotic voice, as he asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

To his shock, Saito stared back at him with that same demonic snarl. His eyes widened, and when he stood, he slammed his hand on the desk. "Who the hell are you?" he screamed. "Who _the fuck _let you in here?!"

Natsuno blinked. He could see Shimizu's bite marks on his neck, the deep punctures already claiming his attention.

He's seen this trick before.

Natsuno straightened, then turned his heel, and left the office. No one bothered looking up as the now useless Saito chased after him, trying to rally everyone into stopping him from leaving. No one ever did.

Natsuno quickly grabbed the umbrella from the side, and made his way out the door, with a "Goodbye Mr. Koide," sounding from behind.

Yuki. Her name was Yuki.

* * *

Megumi sat there at her little workspace, like all good interns did, with those big, bold designs mirroring the dresses within Tokyo's fashion industries. A sheet of white paper sat in front of her, with colored pencils off to the side, in a neat little cup Megumi couldn't help but feel like throttling at times. Her crimson pupils shinned within the midst of the darkness, the details of the room shrouding her with its graceful architecture. The soft rains were becoming louder and louder, to the point Megumi would sometimes look up and wonder if a tsunami would head their way.

She sat at a very large table, filling one of thirty-six chairs in the area. The large, horizontal window to her left remained untouched by the faint lights below, yet the shadows from the ceiling managed to make their way to her skin, tracing the loveless lines on her hand as she attempted to sketch out the accessories needed for the dull clothes in front of her. Lazily, she looked up again, trying to determine what was so special about this design. She resisted the urge to toss it away like she usually would, considering the fact that the dress came from her superior.

Of course, no one would object to her throwing the dress out, right?

She sighed, and started again. The dark path of her pencil etched from one corner of the paper to the other. A belt would help. A purse too, as long as the strap was short enough. Okay, maybe this could work.

Who was she kidding?

There was _nothing _she could do to help this poor sap! The sleeves were too long and puffy, and the hem was so outrageous she had to wonder how the model was supposed to even _walk;_ what with the barfing rainbows all over the fabric and the cape, which reminded her of some washed up bathing suite, it took Megumi all she had not to draw on it, improving it with her little ideas and such. Sure, today was only her first day, but already, the "elites" have signed off on what designs they should use from America, the craze that's "taken the world by storm." The products were so horrible not even Megumi would want to wear them.

This was bad. There was another fashion show coming up next week, and one in February that was to take place during the Sapporo Snow Festival. It was originally planned to showcase the "wonderful" designs from the company; she's even heard that there'd be some dancers who were going to wear the clothes. They were to be "the utmost graceful and elegant Japan has ever seen."

Naturally, her superiors tasked a complete newbie to come up with a way to promote the designs, and originally, Megumi was delighted.

Then she saw the clothes…

She sighed, and examined the paper while twirling the pencil in her hand. All the higher-ups wanted to do was sit on their butts, making money off their employees' clothing, clothing, she might add, that those lazy _asses were supposed to make_. So she smirked, and redrew the outfits onto her own piece of paper. They weren't going to notice if she made some tweaks to it. Besides, it was already so close to the deadline that they wouldn't have time to complain about it anyways.

Megumi heard a knock on the door. She turned, greeted by that familiar presence. "Come in," she called.

The secretary, Ms. Okada, she believed, timidly walked through the door. She was a tiny, plump woman, with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. She wore a white sweater and a pink shawl over it, along with a long, grey skirt that might as well have matched the rivers outside. She was grandmotherly, and she had a soft-spoken voice, something Megumi found quite interesting. "I'm going home," she said quietly. "Make sure you lock the doors, alright?"

Megumi nodded. "Okay."

Ms. Okada sighed at the wads of paper lying around the vicinity. "This is too much work for an intern," she mumbled. "Are you sure you'll be alright here?"

"Y-yeah. I'll be fine. Have a good night." And with that, the door closed, and Megumi resumed working.

She didn't sense Yuuki coming back to Omotesando yet, nor did she find Haru anywhere near it, what with her being this high up. It did disappoint her a bit, knowing full well that there was no one waiting. However, she distracted herself with the already overwhelming work she needed to take care of.

As she kept drawing and redrawing the accessories, the styles, everything, Megumi's mind slowly drifted off, randomly taking whatever time she had to dwell on those happy moments Haru instigated, on his little antics, on how she teased him whenever he made the slightest mistake. Maybe she could even convince him to do a little modeling for her again. Perhaps Yuuki would join in on the fun too.

She stopped working for a moment, giggling at her own silliness. Of course he wouldn't. After all, he wasn't sticking around for her sake. And besides, if she pushed too much, he might just end up leaving her.

He might just end up leaving her, without another word…

Haru was acting weird that night, though she couldn't bring herself to ask why. The way he looked at her with those adoring eyes alone was enough to make her cringe. He gazed at her, as if there was nothing wrong with her, as if he depended on her with his very life…as if he loved her, right down to the core. He looked desperate, each and every time she left, and whenever she came back, she would find him sitting there, waiting for her. Sometimes he would be asleep, other times, he would ask her where she'd been, and yet still, he would scream at her if she'd been away for too long.

It was an obsession she was painfully aware of.

Yet, at the same time, he was always there. He wasn't like the villagers, who didn't bother understanding her plight, nor was he like Yuuki, who she kept chasing uncertainly, even though she knew she would fail in the end.

Instead, Megumi decided to compare him to Kaori.

She promptly resumed her duties. Megumi remembered the girl's pigtails, and how she would keep running after her, though Megumi was clearly fed up with her. She always had that stupid little smile on her face, and whenever she got hurt, Megumi would have to be the one to stand up for her.

Really…

Megumi kept her thoughts preoccupied, while her hand kept drawing aimlessly, curving from side to side without warning. Though her eyes followed her fingers, they kept seeing Haru and Kaori there, as well as that night, during the fashion show.

Haru and Kaori.

Together, greeting the audience with the outfits she made.

Megumi suddenly swiped everything off the desk.

Papers flew everywhere, hers and her superiors.

What the hell was that girl _thinking? _Yuuki was _hers, _and for some _insane _reason, Kaori decided to just _take him! _What right did she think she had, doing that to Megumi? Did Kaori think about stealing him away, since Megumi was dead? Was she waiting for Megumi to get out of the picture, just so she could have him all to herself? _How could she do that to her?_

But in the midst of the confusion, Megumi saw the end product. She stood up, and picked up the paper. She bit her lip, so much so she could taste blood at the edge of her tongue.

The dress would look good on Kaori.


	34. Chapter 34

Haru stood there, in that empty room, gazing down at the now cold floors that once harbored a masterpiece of messes, with colors decorated at seemingly random places. His elongated shadow clung to the dust that was now ravaging the atmosphere, while he mentally began reverting the building back to what it originally was; nothing.

This was the first time he saw the room in its entirety; the broken windows, with spider webs already filled with prey, the broken glass shards on the floor, most of which were thrown away, and the rusted, steel walls, all of whom now giving off a hateful glare toward the owner that left it behind. Tiny seams of fabric were left, though at this point there was too little of it to make anything meaningful. The table used to be here, that mirror too…

Haru sighed. It'd already been a week since Megumi left, and frankly, he was too afraid to see her. She had a new life now, and he was worried that he'd just get in the way of things; after all, it's not like she wanted a little kid hanging around her all the time, right? She was a really good artist too, so once she completes her internship, she'll move onto bigger, better things. There was no room for distractions, let alone babysitting some small rat she found in a cursed forest.

It seems that Natsuno had gone missing as well, dropping out of Haru's life like some astounding magic trick, without warning, or care. He never showed up to the cafe like he usually did, lounging in his usual corner like some big, lazy cat. Haru couldn't even begin to count the hours he's had to sit there by himself, watching people pass by without end. Nor, while he was on the subject, did he know how to handle Natsuno's sudden disappearance. Megumi told Haru that he would see him soon, but as far as Haru was concerned, that "soon" has already past.

Yet the time he spent alone wasn't a bad thing.

He managed to visit the site of the once proud, prominent Bethlehem Hospital. The destruction was unbelievable; though it'd been a month since the fire, he could still make out the dried stains from which many of the bodies cremated. Some of the ashes were carried away by the wind, and the rains managed to wash away a majority of the carnage, but the very image was embedded into his mind. If he stood from a distance, the entire scene looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic world.

Everything inside the hospital was unsteady, so unsteady Haru had to avoid the falling debris that pulverized some wayward kid a few hours back. Still, it never deterred him from exploring the interior. He kept looking for any clues pertaining to the killers' motives, for answers that could lead to their possible reveal. Even within that ghostly moonlight, he shifted through the now cool embers, trying to find something that would ease his now growing curiosity. He searched every floor, every room, but he could find nothing.

He only had to look down to see what he so pathetically missed.

Underneath the hospital, he discovered a very large basement. It'd already been pried open, and the locks were all on the floor. He went through the doors, the breeze passing through his neck, the ash burying themselves in his clothes for comfort. He could make out what was hidden there, within that darkness.

Cages.

Most of them probably burned during the fire, yet a few still remained. Haru could see the piercing needles in the dirt, the plastic along the black of the floor. Remnants of chains claimed his attention, along with tiny ropes that have lost their way in the midst of the hellish fray.

The scene was so bizarre that there was no way this could've been just an accident. The way the scorch marks trailed, along with the fact that almost everything seemed controlled, it seems that the killers must've had an agenda. What was so confusing was why those intelligent marks seemed to have stopped on in the middle of the staircase, making it look like they were rushing to get down here. They were probably going to the basement during the fire then.

He would stare at the cages for ages on end, trying to figure out just what exactly they were trying to prove. It'd be nice if they were freeing the experiments, but the very idea alone felt too idealistic. Still, it could explain why so many patients fled the scene, so very disoriented, without a single clue of what was happening to them. He remembered the media listing out all the recovered patients at one point, and the hospitals they were admitted to, a majority of them near his school. Would they be willing to interview him? Probably not, considering the memories might be too gruesome to return to.

But even as he left the hospital, Haru couldn't help but ponder at the predicament he was in. He rented a motel room that night, right near the abandoned arts district, and simply stared up at the ceiling. The killers kept returning to his mind, their motives and all, after which he would stuff his face with a pillow nearby. There was no way people were that simple. Sure, human suffering had something to do with it, but that wasn't all; if it was, they would've targeted Mr. Fawn long ago.

The case was all he ever thought about now, with the tiny details sprouting like unwanted weeds in the back of his mind. And suddenly, things started popping up from out of nowhere, things that only served to confuse him more.

Yume went missing, and he was the only one that noticed. Usually, when she was absent, everyone would've made a big fuss over it. He knew from personal experience that her friends would keep crying about it, acting extremely sensitive in order to get the school's attention, and this would go on for a while. But whenever he asked around, they all simply shook their heads, and told him they never knew her. Even when he described her, they just kept giving him the same answers. He didn't know if this was just a really bad prank, or if they were actually telling the truth, but either way, it disturbed him.

Then there was Yuki, who had just recently been murdered. Her head was cleanly cut off, and since the body was found in the middle of the streets, the media made her end even more tragic than it had to be. Of course, he wasn't exactly sad that she died; she hurt a lot of people. She monopolized the fact that her dad was chief-of-police, so almost everyone was afraid of her, Ken included.

The beheading did intrigue him though; there've already been rumors going around, saying that the "Queen of Hearts", an executioner no one had, had risen up again, and was now targeting high school girls. Haru remembered the string of murders tied to her name, as well as many others, so much so it left some room for concern, and suspicion.

And finally, there was Tanaka-san, the girl from the supposedly demonic village of Sotoba. He's heard enough about her; from the mountains of bodies stashed underground, to the burning of an entire village, Kaori's name alone was a hotbed of supernatural wonders. She'd been nice enough to talk with him during her lunch period though, and he regarded her as a good friend, a replacement for the ones he was waiting for. She was still traumatized by the incident however, so he didn't pry.

Haru walked over to the glass shards and examined his reflection, recalling every piece of information he could gather. It was amazing, how he turned what looked like nothing into relentless networks, all of which had to be connected somewhere. Mr. Fawn said the killer was somewhere close by, and that Haru was the only one who had access to them. He stood there with questioning eyes, as he tried again and again to piece together the somewhat hazy puzzle.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulders, and drastically turned. The panic began falling ever so slowly, as he took a step back, the relief crashing into his system. Adrenaline was still in his veins as he glared at Natsuno. "Don't do that." he breathed.

Natsuno blinked. He wore that same, violet checkered jacket he always did, with a white shirt tucked underneath. He had on faded black jeans with a tiny chain sticking out from the pockets, along with gothic-looking combat boots. Though Haru was glad to see him, at an instant, the frustrations came back all over again. "Where were _you?"_

Natsuno shrugged, an apologetic look adorning his eyes. "Sorry. I got held up. I thought I'd find you here."

"Ah…yeah." Haru looked out the window, the sun high within the clouds, the crisp wind blowing over the neglected building. "I talked with Megumi," he said quietly. "She said I could come over, any time I liked."

"You should. It'd be good for her."

Haru turned to Natsuno. There was something bothering him today, though he didn't know what. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied. "What about you? Are you adjusting to school alright?"

"I am. It's a bit chaotic though."

"I see."

"How was that meeting?"

Haru grimaced at the memory, before shutting it down completely. "Boring. The bastard fell asleep two hours into the thing."

It surprised him, how smooth the lie was. It slipped off his tongue easily, as if the words were the most natural thing in the world. The moment passed without much effort, so much so Haru never looked back, trying to see if it sounded the way it should. Thankfully, it appeared Natsuno never paid much attention. "Did he snore on the way back?"

"Couldn't get any sleep."

They were talking like the usually did, like time hadn't passed at all between the two. Haru immediately felt at ease, and eventually, he weaved his way back into those past days of when it was just the two of them, sitting in that cafe. Though the atmosphere had a bit less joy in it, and though the melancholy still persisted through, it felt nice, to be with Natsuno again. He couldn't deny it.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Even as the sun went underneath the buildings, they were still there, their voices once again bringing life to a place where a bittersweet goodbye nailed its coffin doors. In that moment, Haru actually believed nothing had changed, and that somehow, someway, Megumi would come knocking at the front door, back from some extravagant job. In that moment, it looked like he still had that wonderful illusion. He's already made up his mind then; neither Natsuno nor Megumi will have anything to do with this.

Natsuno sighed. "Listen, I need to ask you about something."

Haru blinked. "Sure."

"Do you know a girl named Yuki Saito, perchance?"

What an odd question. "Yeah, I do. She's the girl that got killed a few days ago."

Natsuno stared at him with dark eyes. "Did you know her?"

"Not really. She wasn't really liked around my school, so it's not like anyone cared much for her. Don't worry though; I'm sure they'll catch the criminal soon."

"Yeah…" It looked like he wanted to say something else. Haru was waiting, but for some reason, he bailed. "What is it?" the boy asked. "Come on, you can tell me anything."

"Sorry. I know this is gonna be a bit repetitive."

"Bring it."

"What do you like about Shimizu?"

Haru stared at Natsuno for a while, with a curious light in his eyes. He was right; it was a bit repetitive. However, it wasn't like Natsuno to just suddenly bring this subject up. Haru would usually talk his ears off at how great Megumi was, before getting cut off to change the subject. "Um, I'd love to talk about her…but why?"

"Just a little curious, that's all."

"Well…" a slight blush spread across his cheeks as his hands wrung themselves together. "She's pretty, and she's really strong. She doesn't act like it, but she's really nice too sometimes. She gave me a place to stay when I needed it, and even though she makes fun of me a lot…I enjoy it. Along with you, she helped me with my depression, and since then, I sort of latched onto her. She's just…always been there for me, you know?"

Natsuno kept gazing at him, his lips slightly parted. Immediately, Haru thought back to his answer, trying to see if he missed anything. Did he say anything embarrassing? Yet he brushed his emotions aside, and laughed like it was nothing. "I know. I sound like a total wuss right now, but-"

"What if she did something bad to you?"

"Megumi would never do that."

"Yeah, but hypothetically speaking," Natsuno continued. "Let's say she did something so bad to you, you had no idea what to do or say. Everything around you was torn apart because of her, and she was laughing at it like some dumb joke."

Haru nervously chuckled. "Where'd this come from?"

"How would you feel about that?" he pressed.

Again, Haru was confused. What was Natsuno saying, that Shimizu did something bad to him? Did this have something to do with what happened in the past? That was a good possibility; they've always tended to be at odds with one another. But it was a good sign. It meant that there was a chance they could get along with one another, that Haru didn't have to worry about leaving the two alone, only to come back finding them ripping each other's throats out.

But _his_ Megumi? That just isn't possible. Even as he stood there, browsing through the various scenarios of what could happen if Megumi did, indeed, betray him, his heart taking bigger blows than he expected they would, he remained unbelieving. Finally, he gave Natsuno his answer. "I wouldn't care. I'd still love her, no matter what happened."

Clearly that wasn't the answer his companion was expecting, since he stared at him, the surprise evident in his pupils. It took him a while to regain his senses, it seems. "No matter what she did to you?"

Well, considering Haru had nothing left, he nodded. "I know this is gonna sound a little cheesy, but even if she tore both my limbs off, or murdered me several times over, I'm still gonna love her. I wouldn't care what anyone else had to say."

"So what would happen if she did something bad to someone you cared about? How would you feel about her then?"

Ah, another question! "I would still love her, but I would also make her apologize to the person she wronged."

"What a…stupid answer…"

Haru couldn't help but laugh for a little. He didn't know when, but soon, Natsuno joined in, his quiet chuckles engaged in the atmosphere. There; hopefully things will smooth out between the two ."Seriously though; what'd she do to you?"

He just kept laughing.

"Natsuno?"

"Your devotion really is scary sometimes."

* * *

Toma idly sat there on the bench one lonely night, the slut coddling disgustingly in his arms. His bored eyes kept gazing out from tree to tree, no longer taking in the beauty the national parks afforded him. He yawned, and squeezed the corpse a bit tighter, trying desperately not to fall asleep. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back against the chair, his knees snugged tightly against his little doll.

His brain went back to that mysterious stranger, the one who smelled really sweet. Like Toma, he was a jinrou. He'd only been turned for almost a year, and the way he held himself, it looked like he was still new to the whole thing. He had those same eyes Toma once possessed, eyes that took everything in, but gave nothing back in return; he was ignorant, yet at the same time, he bordered on innocent, something that was really hard to come by these days.

Once this was over, Toma planned on paying him a visit again. Who knows? Maybe they'd be close friends later on. Maybe they'd talk like friends do, laugh at the same dumb jokes over and over again. They could even hunt together, though of course, with Toma's feral killings, it'd be a bit hard. But the newbie would just have to get over it.

He would make a wonderful addition to the collection.

Toma yawned, setting the slut next to him. He stretched his arms high, high into the clouds, to the heavens, to some light he knew he could never reach. A devilish smile formed on his mouth, as he slowly turned to his toy, an entertaining thought coming into his mind. "Hey, slut. Disappointing, isn't it? That Yuki had to die?"

There was, of course, no answer. "The way she was killed…looks like that's the killer, right there. Too bad I couldn't get anything out of her eyes. Poor girl never saw her assailant. Still," he licked his lips, tasting the revenge on the tip of his tongue, "the suspect was saving someone, weren't they? They wouldn't have risked their life otherwise. And that Kaori girl isn't really well liked in her school either. Maybe a boyfriend?"

He laughed at that the very thought. Poor, pathetic Yuki; she was so jealous of Kaori she did everything she could to make the girl stay away from her precious world. It didn't matter what she had to do; abuse, violence, making everyone in the school hate her for something she never did…well, too late now. Yuki's probably gone to a place she could never hope to atone for her sins. Then again, maybe not.

"What a stupid creature she was," he went on on. "I can't believe she would betray everyone, just to get that simple threat away from her life. I mean, you heard her too, right? Who in their mind would go for someone as old as her dad? Come on, Mr. Saito and Kaori…age difference much? Oh, oh! Maybe this is just another reveal of her sick obsessions! I heard she fell in love with that teacher…Kosei-sensei at one point. She blamed Kaori for her affections later on."

The enjoyment picked up. "And did you _see _the way Ken chased her? No, I guess you didn't; you weren't even made then. But I saw through his eyes, and all those chaotic emotions swirling around. He really was obsessed with her, wouldn't you say? I mean I only had to poke his mind a bit, and, poof, he took a _flying leap_ off that slippery slope. He came with a knife and everything! What a total loser!"

That laugh ascended from the air ferociously, along those unseen constellations and lullabies. If he stared high enough, he could even make out a few of the planets; there was Venus, right there, in that little, puny space of hers. The Big Dipper, Little Dipper…

That reminds him! Toma picked himself off the bench and carried the slut in his arms once again. Not a lot of people were ready for this type of doll yet, and since this was only a prototype, it'd be really bad if the masses saw it now.

He bent down and kissed the corpse's chest. "He's gonna be mad if we don't head there now," he whispered quietly, disappearing within the stillness of the dark twilight.


	35. Chapter 35

Kaori sat in her seat, slouched over, head buried in her arms, appearing as weary and dejected as ever, at least to the majority of her classmates. To Kosei-sensei, it seemed that the girl was just catching up on her sleep, and as a result, refrained from giving her any other work. To Mr. Yuuki and Akira, however, she was trying to shake off the nervousness of being targeted by her newfound abuser, Mr. Saito.

She didn't know what caused him to change so drastically. Ever since he literally dragged her from the hospital that day and took her into questioning, he'd been acting strangely, aggressively, so much so she wondered if he was just under a lot of stress due to Yuki's death, or if he was suffering from a very rare, severe form of depression. Perhaps it was because he felt that Yuki's death was his own fault, and now he was trying to shift the blame to someone else. Either way, her authoritative, supporting friend was gone, replaced by something else that sought after her downfall.

She sighed heavily, and turned sideways, staring outside at the courtyards. She pondered on Mr. Saito's interrogation, as well as the mysterious friend that carried her back. It was probably just some worried bystander, and surely _they_ must've seen the attacker, right? It was impossible not to. If only she could recall what'd happened that night…

She couldn't though. No matter how hard she tried, for some reason, Kaori would always fail. Instead, a bloodstained red came pouring through her pupils, and a throbbing headache would pierce through her brain, causing her to double over. She'd feel nauseated, feverish, disoriented, and at times, her fingers would dig into her skin, as if endeavoring to rip that troubling curiosity away from every fiber of her being. And in all honesty, it seemed like an appropriate thing to do. After all, she had no relic from that night, nothing to remind herself of what she saw, what she heard, besides the swirling emotions spinning out of control.

She was so absorbed with that disturbing mindset, that she didn't even notice a certain boy approaching her from the side. His presence was now common before her, and his footsteps weren't out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, Kaori did manage to feel Ken's usually hateful daggers boring her back, and her ears perked when she saw herself underneath that familiar long, dark shadow. Her eyes peaked from her elbows, before she stood rapidly, flustered at how sloppy she must've looked.

"Yasuhiko-san…" she whispered breathlessly.

He gave her a tiny smile, both hands shoved in his pockets. His usual sandy blond hair was swept to the sides, those warm eyes greeting her without the intensity she'd grown to avoid. He wore a long gray sweater on top of his uniform. Kaori had a bit of trouble returning his smile. "Tanaka-san." He greeted back. "Mind if I join you for lunch?"

She blinked, then looked down. She realized what he was carrying, the embarrassing heat returning to her cheeks. They'd been friends for a while now, almost a week, yet for some reason, she would still get flustered like this. The same questions would race through her brain, and in the midst of all that panic, he would be standing there, patiently waiting for her answer. Would he make fun of her if she said yes? Was there drool all over the desk? "U-um, yeah."

He chuckled a little, then proceeded to turn away. "Want to go to outside?"

"Sure!" she said softly, grabbing her dark blue jacket and bento, and following him out of the room. Did she sound too happy? People were staring at them! They were whispering, gossiping, and Kaori had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. She couldn't begin to imagine the rumors circulating around them.

The first time he came up to her, Kaori was more excited, more enthusiastic. She could barely get a single word out, and even as they were together, alone like they were now, she could never bring herself to look him in the eye. He was chatting about something away about something whimsical, while she was just sat there, looking like an idiot. There were questions she wanted to ask him, but she was just too anxious to do so. But somehow, he managed to simply slip those questions from her lips, without having her ask anything. And ever since then, he'd been around her; she never saw him with anyone else. Even outside of school, he bide his time, then he would escort her home.

It took Kaori a while to get used to, but when she did, everything just…fell into place after that.

When they walked out of the classrooms, with Kaori behind Yasuhiko-san by a few steps He was a bit scrawny, and she saw a bit of his timid nature peak out from his frame. Yet at the same time, he held his head higher, so high in fact, he could probably stare everyone in this school down, the teachers included. He was a head taller than she was, and his shoulders were broad. He kept staring straight ahead, not bothered at all by the classmates who started to turn toward them.

When they were out in the courtyard, the now bitter cold attacked her from every side. Dead trees rapped their twigs together, and the last of the leaves were beginning to fall. Though the fiery colors were still there, they all had a bit of dullness to them, their lively disposition disappearing before her. The soggy dirt buried their pride, along with those unfortunate, dead insects who couldn't get away from the early frost. But when Kaori looked up and saw that familiar stone bench, she relaxed.

Yasuhiko-san waited for her to sit first. She accepted his invitation quickly, and tried to make herself comfortable in what she perceived to be an awkward situation. She pulled off the cover of her box, revealing yet another one of Mr. Yuuki's delicacies. She picked up her chopsticks, and smiled gratefully, then turned to her companion, who was already digging into his food.

He stopped when he caught her pouty face, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled when he bit off the noodles. He swallowed the clump of food, and held the box tightly. "It's been a while since I had warm food."

"Yeah, me too."

"I know it's a bit uncalled for, you know…"

Kaori shook her head. "It's fine. It's been a while since we last spoke. You never called, by the way."

He scratched his head and laughed. "Sorry about that. I got held up in a lot."

"How was the meeting?"

"Boring, as always. What about you?" His expression visibly softened as his eyes drifted to her now healed arms, but visibly flinched at the bandages still wrapped around her head. "Looks like you got out okay. You really don't remember anything?"

"Crazy right?"

"Is that stupid cop bothering you again?"

"H-he's not stupid," Kaori defended automatically, the genuine hope almost ringing from her tone. "It's just…Yuki's death has been a bit rough for him."

"He shouldn't it out on you though. If he's gonna be like this, they should just take him off the investigation team."

Kaori sighed. "He's chief-of-police. I guess they're all too afraid of him. Besides which," she smiled a bit and raised an eyebrow, "you're one to talk."

Initially, her friend simply sat there, wondering just what was wrong with the already content scene. But as time went on, his eyes grew wider and wider, until finally, the realization hit him ever so humorously. "Yeah, I should apologize to you for that incident as well. It's just…our last model ran out on us, so I kind of just grabbed the first girl I could find."

"Not at all." She took a tiny bite of the chicken, its warmth filling her tastebuds happily. "I enjoyed it actually. The designer has a talent for making people look beautiful."

He had a far-off look on his face, and with a nostalgic grin, he said, "Yeah, she does."

She?

Kaori laughed then. Oh, how disappointed everyone was going to be. Yasuhiko-san saw her amused expression, and playfully elbowed her side. "What? What's so funny?"

"It's just…everyone expected your friend to be a guy. All the girls in our school wanted to date…well, her now, I guess."

"O-oh." He eventually joined in her mirth. "Well, they're gonna be disappointed then."

"Does she go here?"

"No. She's independent." And, like some private joke, he turned toward Kaori, that amiable face still present. "She's got an assistant too. I roped him into it though."

She feigned a depressed frown. "That's a bit mean."

"Whenever I talk about her, he just doesn't want to listen. Well, now he will."

"Do I know them?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't think so. She just moved away, and I have no idea where the hell the assistant's staying."

Kaori liked his informalities. She plucked another morsel of food, marveling at how cool it'd gotten. It wasn't like she minded it; in fact, it was fine if the whole thing froze over, and she'd have to throw it away later. "Mind if I ask his name?"

Yasuhiko took one more bite, and gulped it down with amazing speeds. "Natsuno."

"Natsuno…huh…"

He stared at her, and cocked his head a bit. "What's wrong?"

Kaori placed the bento on her lap as the memories came racing back. It'd been a while since she thought of him. An old friend, a creature who had risen up like most of the other villagers in Sotoba, a deadman who probably got burned alive, along with her childhood friend, in that dismal, crimson abyss. He was loyal and kind, and though he didn't show it, he cared for the villagers enough to not run away. She admired him for it, and though he was turned into one of _them _in the end, in her eyes, he was a hero. He was a good friend, a better friend then Megumi ever was.

How ironic.

"I used to have a friend named Natsuno." she said sadly.

Yasuhiko-san blinked. "Something happen?"

"Yeah…" She closed her eyes, and set her bento beside her. "He died…back in Sotoba."

"…Oh…"

"You shouldn't feel bad." she whispered with an empty giggle. "I mean, he's in a better place now. This world was too good for him anyways."

That's right; he was so noble and pure, that heaven had to snatch him up the moment the angels found him. That's probably what happened to a lot of the other villagers too, including the father she so brutally murdered. "Besides," she continued, "I'm here now. I'm here because of him."

"Tanaka-san?"

"Hmm?"

He looked a little uncomfortable, and he started shifting away. Kaori was suddenly worried that she'd lost another ally. Was he uncomfortable if she talked with him about this? She didn't think he would. Finally, he looked up at her with determined eyes. "Is it…alright if you tell me about Sotoba?"

Kaori blinked. It was the first time anyone asked her directly. Usually, the question would take form of an accusation, or an insult, or some blatant statement in which the truth would never even be seen. Yes, it did hurt for Kaori to talk about something like that. And yes, she was still having trouble disregarding every single thing, but to talk about it? Suddenly, he leaned away.

"It's just…" he began. "There's something weird going on, and I think it involves that place."

Her lips parted slightly, and before she could say anything, he stopped her. "I know. I probably shouldn't get involved. But, as surprising as it is, I _get _where you're coming from. I mean, it must've been bad, since you won't even talk about it with the counselors."

"Y-yeah…"

He barked out a very ashamed laugh, and sighed. "You know what? Never mind. Let's talk about your day. Is Kosei-sensei-?"

"No."

The word silenced Yasuhiko-san, and he ceased talking altogether. There the two sat, the clocks ticking by, as everyone counted down the seconds until lunch ended, too distracted to hear the conversation in front of them. The students surrounding her seemed so brilliant, so normal, yet when she came here, because of Sotoba, they've already relations, relations where she had no place. There was nowhere to hide, aside from her own thoughts, and she's always had to keep her eyes down, simply because no one ever wanted to look at her face, for fear they'd be cursed by some demonic spell she's already casted.

No more.

Kaori took a deep breath, and turned to Yasuhiko-san. "Weird how?"

"It's pretty scary. I don't think I can talk about it with anyone."

She took a long look at his handsome face, then sighed. "Just…promise me you won't tell anyone, alright?"

He seemed to understand the severity of these confessions, and solemnly, he nodded. So, in that very moment, Kaori began her tale. They were outside the whole day.

* * *

Megumi laid out the designs in front of her, determined not to let any slip ups happen. Her fingers kept reorganizing the pictures one by one, endeavoring not to go insane just by the utter foolishness alone. Everything in the sketches hurt her eyes; there was no artistic sense to it, no deeper meaning behind the fabric. That importance of comfortability seemed to avoid these people. If Megumi didn't do something, their sales would plummet. She groaned inwardly; tonight was supposed to be peaceful, wasn't it? It was her night off, after all.

Close by, the police reports surrounded the two silhouettes, the table they were sitting at bombarded with papers, both urgent and idiotic, that were messily sprawled all over. Pictures upon pictures of victims lay there with their respective documents, along with the families and loved ones mourning for their alleged deaths. There were big red marks on the victims' faces, meaning their bodies were never recovered. Their coffins were empty, so there were more graves to dig up, more investigations to search through. There was no doubt the officers took their time, looking through every corner, trying to solve something that had might as well have already been a cold case.

Yuuki stole a quick look at Megumi's now analytical gaze, and though he didn't return it, his pen stopped. "Do you need something?" he asked calmly.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing." she answered, before going back to the butchered fabric. Her own offspring lay just beneath them; she could practically hear them crying out for attention. So she decided to give up on her superior's fractured vision, and pull out the papers below. A tiny smile tugged at her lips.

The dress had already been made, along with the other outfits of her own creation. Ms. Okada agreed to hide them, on the condition that Megumi accept whatever outcome happened next, which she did wholeheartedly. It didn't matter if she was fired or not; she'd rather die than let _anyone _wear _that. _

She turned and stared at the now covered windows. The curtains were dark red, soft to the touch, and the shadows enveloping the fabric subjected them into a somewhat cozy ebonic hearth. In a way, it seemed even more graceful than the entire room itself, and it made everything look inferior to its prideful vanity. Megumi resented the curtains for that, but they also did a good job at keeping the sun out, so it wasn't like she had a say in it. They were also the cheapest she could find here anyways, so she might as well just deal with them as they were.

"Haru lied."

Megumi turned back to Yuuki. Again, she looked down at the police files, and recalled their conversation long ago. She narrowed her eyes. "You think he had something to do with Asaka's death?"

"I don't know. As of this point, there's no one around to watch over him."

"You've found out where they're hiding already?"

Yuuki nodded. "I'll go to Kabukicho tomorrow. There are plenty of yakuza members there. And if we take control of the group there, it'd also be a good source of income."

"So it's not just Haru then?"

He never answered.

Megumi bit her lip. Saito's sudden independence worried her, and since the entire task force was bound to her in the very same way she bound Saito, there was a good chance that a majority of them have already broken free from her control. Even if they didn't, Toma could easily be manipulating them into feeding her false information, whether they wanted to or not. Yuuki's hypnosis was a lot stronger then hers; not only could he break others from it, he could also enslave them for himself, carrying out any and every order he may or may not issue.

She stacked her papers and stuffed them underneath the table. She reached for another stack, when her dark eyes met Yuuki's. It looked like he was staring at nothing in particular, but it was enough to make her blush. She frowned, and immediately turned away. "W-what?" she muttered.

He realized something. Megumi saw it, even from the corner of her eyes, but he looked back down at his document once again, scanning every word. "Yuki Saito was the girl's name."

"Yuki Saito, huh?"

"Yes. She's the chief's daughter." He tossed aside the maps, and searched for other hints. "I saw Mr. Saito arguing with Kaori."

The very name caused Megumi to stiffen. Once again, she turned to the curtains, the envy radiating from her position. "Did she know her?"

"It seems that Kaori was bullied by her a few times." he answered smoothly. "Mr. Saito's paying a lot of attention to all the circumstantial evidence. From that twisted perspective, Kaori's the perfect culprit."

"Do you think he knew about Yuki…bullying her?"

"I highly doubt it." Again, Yuuki's pupils flickered up to hers, and examined them. A few moments passed by, but at last, he released her from silence. "Why did you save her?"

Megumi scoffed. "You're asking me something like that?"

"You hate her, don't you?"

"I do," she stated stubbornly.

"Then why'd you save her?"

"She's important to you, isn't she?" she hissed. Already that blush was fading, replaced by a dark scowl.

But in her mind, she was replaying that same question, the very words stabbing her so many times over. Why did she save her? If Megumi didn't, Kaori's death would look like some gruesome accident, right? Besides, she was only following Toma's scent, so it's not like she _didn't _have a purpose. She just wanted to protect Haru; that was all…

If that was the case, Yuki Saito would've been better alive then dead.

She messed up.

Kaori costed her a lead, dammit! If Megumi kept Yuki alive, they could've used her to lure in the enemy. They could've bitten her and gotten all sorts of information from her. They could've convinced her to be on their side, to hunt down Toma and his partner. There were so many possibilities available that Megumi couldn't help but curse silently.

Perhaps it was the emotional high she felt when she ran into that old, childhood friend. Maybe it was the memories that brushed against her heart. Or, even a funnier prospect, there was some _sentimental _value to it. It wasn't like they could just go back to being friends again. That was the last thing on earth Megumi wanted.

Yuuki resumed his activity, but the sour conversation continued. "Haru's also professed his love to you."

"You're being a big pain in the ass tonight, aren't you?"

"What are you going to do about that?"

"What can I do?" she replied. "As soon as this is over, we'll make him forget about us. Besides," she kept one hand under her chin, "isn't he the reason I'm alive?"

"What?"

"He's my friend, but he's also insurance. He's the reason why you haven't killed me yet, right?"

Yuuki blinked.

Shock kept forcing its way through the now chaotic atmosphere, and immediately, Megumi wished she'd taken back what she said. The regret kept poking fun at her, taunting her so readily with that stupid phrase, _Love is blind._ Still, she kept her demeanor, trying to exonerate the same pride Yuuki once had. Slowly, he went back to what he was doing before.

"If he's working with them, that changes things."

Megumi gripped the designs in her fingers. "Weren't we going to protect him?"

"We still are. We're just going to have to be more careful about it. Isn't that big fashion show coming up? You should invite him. More than likely he'll bring Kaori along."

Saito then.

Even as he was leaving, she turned to him. "Saito's probably got that scent too now, doesn't he?"

She caught Yuuki's frustrated frown. "It's those little tricks that keep things so interesting."

* * *

Author's Note:

Omotesando and Denenchofu are one of Tokyo's top places to live, both of which where many top, international officials live, fashion designers included.

Kabukicho is a decent area as well, but a lot of yakuza members are situated there, running underground businesses and drug trades. In 2004, the police began cracking down on a lot of the yakuza owned businesses there; since then, the incidents have been dubbed the "Kabukicho Renaissance." Though Kabukicho was (and still is) an incredibly famous red-light district, what with the various love hotels, brothels, and night clubs, it's also featured in a lot of prominent movies and books, such as the _Shinjuku Incident _in 2009 (a Jackie Chan movie), and _A Guide to the Sleepless Town, _by Lee Xiaomu.


	36. Chapter 36

The city lights never lost their pandemonium, with the partygoers, both drunk and sober, dancing to their mental demons. The candlelit shadows from faraway curtains contained a somewhat domestic mayhem, followed by a chaos that ensued afterwards, as if those feral beasts can no longer contain themselves. Loud music poured from the bars, and underneath the shrieks, there were seductive whispers now claiming their next victims, followed by alcohol and opium which spilled from the tables. Marijuana leaves claimed the attention of the many businessmen lurking nearby, along with their desperate addicts, hoping to buy their deities with the meager amount of money they had. People, normal and abnormal, kept inviting potential customers in, their eyes digging their way through the already empty wallets, a result of the gluttony from one bar to another.

In the middle of this sleepless city, there were groups of men scouring over, deterring which people did or did not belong. They were dressed all in black, some with shades, some without shades. A few of those men managed to target some of the local gangs loitering around the stores, endeavoring to stop the amateur teens in any way they can. Another few surveyed the crowds of tourists, picking out which person was more important than the rest, singling out the threats without so much as an effort. There were owners dragged outside, forced to pay the fee they never knew had even existed, while others treated these men to whatever they desired, whether it be drink, song, or women.

Normally, on such a slow night as this, the men would relax a bit. They would sit there, staring down at the wondrous city, putting their feet up and taking a sip of wine. The money would be there, stacked in a neat little pile on the table, as they relieved themselves of the fact they've finally collected all the debts necessary to satisfy their leader, fill-in-the-blank. Some might even be in the restaurants, filling themselves, and attempting to stay warm amidst the growing presence of winter.

Yet, for some reason, they seemed disgruntled tonight, for a certain newcomer came into their domain.

He had a very dark shade of purple hair, and his eyes were so cold and cruel, like the society upon which many of the men were barred from returning. His skin was pale, shimmering even in the sea of lights along the banks of people, and when he moved, it seemed like he rendered everything around him obsolete. There was an ethereal, obscure beauty to him, an appearance that captivated a few of the men observing the city. Newcomers such as these wouldn't be considered much of a threat; in actuality, much of the yakuza welcomed the new flow of cash, and as far as they were concerned, he was harmless. However, there was a certain, hypnotic atmosphere around him, something that got a majority of their members interested in.

They all tensed from his presence; they didn't welcome that kind of ugliness.

One of the men intercepted him before he could go any farther into the city. He was shocked by the perceived intruder; he was a kid, to say the least. Frankly, the mysterious boy was probably just a high school student who got lost. Though there was a sagacious air around him, to the point it was almost impossible to see him as such, the man couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the boy. However, his brothers convinced him otherwise, so the man escorted him to the nearest love hotel nearby, and allowed the prostitutes to take care of him there.

The group knew what their member had done, and really, they weren't upset about it. He was about to become a man anyways, right? And since he wandered into the city alone, he should've known this was coming; the world was always willing to crush the innocent, and the yakuza was no exception. So the men watched from underneath the windows, wondering just what on earth their little friend was going to do then.

There they were. It seems that she has him pinned down. One of the men turned away, clearly bothered by the spying. What a coward, they seemed to say, before they resumed their perverted watching.

The kid seems to have taken the lead; good for him. They silently cheer him on.

The barely virtuous man scoffs, and proceeds to leave his friends to their activities. The one thing that made this night a bit less boring, and they decide to use it for _this. _He might as well have just stayed at home bed.

Carefully, he took out a cigar, and lit it. The smoke flowed from his lips, and the man breathed deeply, smiling at the nicotine on his tongue. He leaned against a tree trunk, and turned up to the night skies. This was how it should be, was probably what he was thinking.

His ears perked to the sounds of footsteps approaching him. He sighed, then dropped the cigarette and stomped it out. "Look guys, I'm not interested-"

He never finished.

The man felt two piercing daggers penetrate his throat. Something held him down, and his wrists felt like they were going to break under the pressure. Its fingernails dug into his skin, breaking whatever senses the man had. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything, and even as he stood there, writhing in pain, the creature wouldn't release him. And in that moment, the man collapsed, with two deep, puncture holes in his neck. All the while, he heard a deep, dark voice penetrate from the depths of his mind, telling him to sleep for a bit.

The group nearby grew bored of the now scene, then started looking for their wayward friend. The darkness overtook them as well, and the group fell to their knees, just as onlookers were gathering around.

The next morning, the entire yakuza faction was found in broad daylight, unconscious and suffering from anemia.

Fortunately, every soul was accounted for. Unlike last time, no one had gone missing.

* * *

Toma sat on the table, swinging his legs back and forth wildly, as he tried to catch a glimpse of the newest invention Fawn had recently been working on. This time, it wasn't the scientists coming here to experiment on the victim, nor was it the bountiful doctors who were, as of this point, at the mercy of such a crude monster; no, it was Fawn himself, who decided to see if he could make the person anymore beautiful than they already were. It was a twisted goal, and it was starting to become a bit common. Toma stretched his arms and yawned, waiting impatiently for this dull nightmare to end.

The slut was beside him, as usual, slouched in its corner like a good little toy, while Genso was next to it, on her leash. Her limbs were chained down, with a shock collar that made her look like some kind of broken mistress. From the way she kept whimpering, it sounded like she was just about ready to destroy herself, if only to spare herself from anymore pain. What a miserable creature she turned out to be.

Toma swept away the hair from his eyes and leaned forward. He already did what he was told, but for some reason, the human decided he wanted more from him. Of course, Toma was happy to oblige, considering the very fact he got rid of the boredom Fawn could never hope to erase. Nevertheless, the jinrou was still a bit curious to see what his latest partner had come up with this time. Apparently, the newest toy had "sparkling blue eyes and skin as dark as night."

Fawn emerged from that bloodstained table and, with a twisted grin, he presented to Toma his newest creation. "I call her Amber II." he said quietly.

Toma stole one quick look at the girl, before shrugging his shoulders completely. The body was in the same format, and though her artificial eyes did make the girl a bit prettier, all in all, Fawn had wasted his efforts. He sighed, then slid off the table. "You're still infatuated with those kinds of things?"

Fawn groped his creation mercilessly, causing the girl to tremble agonizingly. A pitiful way to die, to be violated like that just as she was taking her last breaths of life. Toma had seen it a thousand times over. "I am," he said, much to Toma's dismay. "You can never replace eternal suffering. Just look at Genso! She's so beautiful that I just want to torture her over and over and over again."

"If I recall correctly, you did that with your daughter too, right?"

"It was fun."

"What of your wife? Are you still hiding this all from her?"

Fawn shook his head, with that same, amused smile on his face, the smile Toma was beginning to grow weary of. "The woman is willing to believe anything. Just the other day, I told sweetheart Amber was still sleeping, and she actually believed me. There's nothing more fragile than the human heart. Wouldn't you say so?"

"I quite disagree." Toma walked over to the now dead girl. Fawn didn't remove the heart, like he had with so many other people. In the corner of his eyes, Toma could see Fawn admiring his perfect work, his delusional state already manifesting. "It's not just human hearts. The mind is easy to break too. Don't you think?"

Fawn shrugged. "Sometimes, sometimes not. I'd rather not believe in such an erroneous way of thinking." He wiped some of the blood from his fingers onto his pants. He held the blood up to his lips and licked a tiny bit of it, before deciding to slurp up the mess altogether. "I enjoy emotions."

"So do I."

"You should realize then that the heart carries all these emotions, right?" Fawn placed his crimson soaked hands upon his heart, and pretended to tear it out. "You know, that is how these creatures work. Destroy the heart, then you destroy their sense of living. Destroy that much, then their emotions cannot circulate through their bodies, and thus, they lose their motive of living. They die without hope, or despair, or even that strange concept known as 'love.' Again, would you agree, Toma?"

"I'd rather not say." Toma went to Genso, who sat there, completely subjected by his very presence. "The mind is what correlates such weird occurrences to be acted upon. If it weren't for the nervous system, none of your precious emotions would even to develop into that wondrous motivation you seek in the end.

"However," his sultry eyes returned to the naked body now sitting there, upon a wooden chair. Straps of iron and leather bound her to it, the bite marks evident all over her neck and stomach. Her skin was transparent, as it always was, and the organs and limbs were always misplaced in some way. The scene was just so…commonplace now. "I'd say I'm willing to compromise with you. The heart and mind are interconnected in some way. Surely you can't really ignore _that _logic, can you?"

Fawn stared at him for a minute, before finally acquiescing to the epiphany. "Though I'd have to say that my conjecture is more correct."

"Believe whatever you want." Toma stated flippantly, as he grabbed the slut and headed away into the elevator. He'd been with Fawn for who knows how long, and yet that spark remained unlit. That corrupt passion had dulled into a tiny candlelight, alone in the smothering darkness; the excitement was coming to a close.

But it seems that Fawn had yet to catch onto Toma's boredom. "Where are you going?" he called desperately. "You haven't even seen what she can do yet!"

"Just show it to me when you're done."

"I'd rather you wait and see her now!"

Toma pointed an accusing finger at the doll in front of him. "I've got better things to do with my time then wait for it to move! Even the muscles need to be pieced together the right way, else they can't move!"

"I'll find a way then! I'll-!"

The doors shut, and gratefully, Toma soared away, high into the buildings, into the shadows which beckon him so lovingly. Recently, Fawn had been boring him, what with all these repetitive toys and designs. The fondness Toma had for the slut has now evaporated, replaced by something more malevolent, demonic, that Toma would have gladly burned away the stepfather away, in a place of torment and despair. Fawn no longer carried the enthusiasm he admired from so long ago; he can't create the drama, the tension, the conflict, everything Toma thrived off of.

He'd grown old. He had to be replaced, otherwise Toma die of a dull, dull life. Perhaps it was time for Fawn to die.

Suddenly, Toma perked up. He heard that familiar call, the stained, monstrous howl that said his name over and over again. The voice echoed from his mind, bouncing off his cells over and over again. That prickly annoyance he felt with Fawn immediately disappeared, and along with it, any shred of loyalty he had left for the man. A large grin appeared on his face, as he stepped out of the elevator, bouncing happily into the lobby. It was the human again.

He didn't care if he looked crazy then. That old, terrifying adrenaline once again made its way through his veins; it was a feeling Toma hadn't seen in a very long time. "Yes." he said automatically. "I went there. Found a lot, I did. Why don't we meet up? Yeah, police station. It was bugged, but I got rid of the insects."

He blinked, and furrowed his eyebrows. He stopped in the middle of the way, and bit his lip. "Could be. Don't know about that. I'll explain it to you later. Huh? Saw it on the news? So sorry. Okay, okay, no need to shout."

Toma continued on to the outside. It was raining again, so he stayed underneath the overhead of the company building, and crossed his arms. "You've got my compensation yet?" There was a pause, then the boy clapped his arms. "That's wonderful! You know, I also took the time to go to that place you mentioned before. Yeah, Suicide Forest, right?" Toma lowered his voice then. "Sorry, no body. Ooh, things are starting to get complex, aren't they?"

Toma blinked, then laughed a bit. "I'm just kidding. Are you always this serious?"


	37. Chapter 37

Kaori gripped Haru's hand tightly, as he pulled her against the tide of people wading past her. Her coat was clung to her skin, with her hat loosely strapped against her head. Her heels slammed on the concrete floors as she struggled to keep up with him. She noticed how long his strides were, and even with all her jogging she still had trouble keeping up with him, her oxygen-deprived body already crying out for air. How long had they been running anyways?

Just recently, Haru had asked her to go with him to his friend's fashion show in Omotesando, as a celebration for her getting out of the hospital. It was a bit sudden; it wasn't like she knew him well, after all. Thinking that this was a date was absurd, though she couldn't stop herself from blushing, even as he walked beside her, talking about the latest crime incident.

Frankly, Kaori was a bit nervous for this encounter; she's kept herself in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to see what, out of her entire wardrobe, was suitable for an event like this. She was, after all, going to be in front of a lot of important people. Akira teased her about it more than once, and Mr. Yuuki repeatedly expressed his disapproval if she was going with any boy, for that matter. Even Love added to her anxieties, and kept himself firmly planted in front of her bedroom door, not bothering to deal with his separation issues.

"You're all just really paranoid!" was what she said before heading out the door.

His long fingers wrapped around her wrist, guiding her amidst the deep, dark ocean. He wore a long white coat over his school uniform, and an old, worn out grey scarf to go with it. His blond hair bounced up and down in anticipation, and when he turned to her, she could almost see every bubbly thought in his mind. He really was excited about this, wasn't he?

"Come on!" he said breathlessly. "It's almost starting!"

Kaori was laughing at his childlike antics, and pushed herself harder. Her hair flew behind her, brushing aside every carefree insult thrown at her. "I want to see to! But…but slow down…!"

"Oh…" Immediately, Haru came to a grinding halt. The action was so instantaneous Kaori slammed against his back, her forehead knocking hard on his shoulder. She blinked, her face flushed by the heat and humiliation of the moment. She rubbed her red nose, with a bright smile tugging at her cheeks. "Sorry. You okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied behind her frozen hands. She peeked up at his pupils. "Are you sure we can come in? I mean, this isn't just something we can go to for free-"

"I already told you," he answered contently. "She gave us two free passes. We can even see the models up close, if you want."

"I-is the food free?"

"Well, for these things yeah. Everything else…no…I learned that the hard way." He laughed awkwardly. "But you don't need to be so worried! As long as you stay by my side, you'll be fine!"

Kaori beamed at his confidence, and nodded mutely, her tongue refusing to obey her. Again, he lightly tugged at her arm, his fingers slipping into hers easily, as they started walking. The pace was still a bit fast, but Kaori could keep up with him just fine, this time without attracting the attention of so many strangers. Her pulse calmed, while her lungs recovered from their terrifying excursions, as the two made their way to the now increasing wave of enthusiastic crowds.

The fashion show was taking place in front of a huge, company building, in a transparent tent with a small, pale blue chandelier at the center. There was an elevated runway in front of it, with crystal trees placed on each side, the roots cut through the very stage itself, giving off its finest glows. The spotlights made up for the moon's absence, and the candlelights situated on each branch managed to balance itself, despite the coordinator's frustrating demands. From here, the lights looked like they were floating;. They weren't at all fazed by tonight's rambunctious environment.

Kaori couldn't remember seeing so many people before, even during the morning rush hour. There were fans trying to catch a glimpse of the newest fashions, all of which who were caught up in some sort of craze right now. To the average onlooker, it looked as if they were there simply to add to the newest fads circulating Japan right now. Kaori stared at them and cocked her head, trying to understand exactly what went on in those thick skulls of theirs, when she felt Haru tug her forward. And suddenly, there she was, in front of all those dreamers.

"Name?" the security guard asked.

Kaori held onto Yasuhiko-san's arm as he gave off his normal amiable nature. "Yasuhiko. This lovely girl is with me."

"Passes?"

After a few minutes of silence, the guard gave them back the badges and shoved them through, all the while attempting to block the next wave of fans from getting in. Kaori couldn't help but continue her little activity from before. Yasuhiko-san noticed her quizzical eyes and chuckled. "It can't be helped. A lot of famous people are here, and they'll be wearing the designs next week."

Kaori spun around, her eyes widening at the very notion of his implication. "Are they really that obsessed?"

"Economy's good right now. With all this prosperity, people need to waste their time on something. Come on; our seats are over there." He pulled her to his side, slowly inching away from the crowds. Kaori returned to her curious mental wanderings, as she continued toward the seated adults.

"We're sitting in the front seats?" she asked, surprised by the connections the designer must have.

"We'll be in the middle of the action." he stated, plopping down on the white, wooden chair. Kaori cautiously took her seat, and looked around. There were photographers in the front row, just like before, all ready to bombard the models with lights. A majority of the reporters were in the background, silently observing the audience, all the while sorting out the compliments and insults that could be given for each outfit. Wondering eyes kept gazing at the stage, trying to anticipate what was going to happen, what model or designer was going to screw up, all cruel and merciless in their conjectures.

Kaori shivered, and turned to Haru. "Um…is it just me, or-?"

"No, you're right." Haru silently looked up at the predators before them, and gave her an anxious grin. "Normally, a high school fashion show wouldn't even arouse their attention. But our school's winner was just so unique and addicting, I guess people want to see more. Their world is a bit different from ours."

Kaori blinked, and leaned forward a bit. "You seem to know your way around their world, Yasuhiko-san."

He shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it. She's really good at what she does. Hey, show's starting."

The lights dimmed, with tiny, simplistic stars popping up all across the tent, a soft blend a dark blue and light pink taking over the atmosphere. Pleased murmurs erupted from the audience, though their eyes remained trained on the stage. Kaori bit her lip, and concentrated on the runway. Yasuhiko-san seems to put a lot of faith in this person; hopefully, she won't let him down. Besides, Kaori has worn her creations before, and needless to say, she hoped the models reveled in its touch the same way she did.

Then Kaori saw her, the first model.

* * *

The first was a dark red, sleek dress. The train reached all the way down to the floor, and had gold and brown leaves stitched onto it. Black ribbons gave the impression of flowers softly drifting through the crimson autumn skies, and at the model's neck, there was a golden rose choker woven together with black leather. Tiny orange gemstones were dotted at random places, with tiny chains clinging to the outer edges of the choker before rounding off to the next endpoint. The front of her dress stopped at her knees, giving the audience a full look at her legs. The left arm had no sleeve, while the right was tightly attached to her arm. She poised in front of the cameras for a while, making the dress appear more seductive than it was, before making her way back.

Natsuno sat on the company's balcony, his legs dangling over the rails, as he closed his eyes, listening to the already approving whispers from the crowds below. Not too flashy, but ostentatious enough to make a good impression. It seems the first design was a success.

True to his word, Haru was there, and he brought Kaori with him. Natsuno gripped the rails, watching over the two with his dark pupils. He looked up, and squinted. It took him a while, before he finally managed to make out her silhouette in the crowds, standing at the corner of the crossroads, carefully surveying the situation around her.

One of the reasons why Natsuno was even here to begin with was because of the very prospect of Mr. Saito showing up to an event like this. Right now, it seemed like he was stalking Kaori for the sole purpose that she might be behind his daughter's murder, however unlikely that was, and as a result, has set his eyes on her.

Another reason why was because Shimizu didn't want to see Kaori, and even gave up her rights to attend her own show. He's pondered on her recent actions over and over again, and still, he had no answer; her erratic thoughts, her confusing movements were hard enough to decipher. He knew he wasn't prepared to allow Shimizu anywhere near the girl yet, though she's saved her life, nor did Natsuno believe it was healthy…for either of them. But even if Shimizu decides not to stop Mr. Saito from closing in on Kaori, Natsuno could take him out easily; he was high enough to see where the officer was going to go, where he was headed.

And though Natsuno didn't want to admit it, he was also a bit curious to see on how the fashion show will go. Shimizu really did have talent.

When he felt the shiki's eyes on him, he turned toward her, and stared her down. She blushed and looked away, trying to concentrate more on the streets. He stiffened, then steered his attention toward the entrance. The next one was about to come out.

This time, Megumi decided to go with a male model, and decided to utilize those black, torn jeans she kept seeing on Natsuno's newly acquired servants, adding straps that seemed to tie the legs together. The model wore what appeared to be a tailcoat, the points gracefully floating off the ground. He had a thin, gray, elegant sweater underneath, where the ends stretched all the way to his knees, with skeletal angel wings positioned at the core of his heart. On his hands were, see-through, black rose gloves stitched with skulls along the very boundary of the fabric.

The audience seemed a bit more alarmed this time. However, it seems that Shimizu pulled this stunt last time, and immediately, they relaxed, and started taking catalog of the outfit. "Too girly," were the most spoken criticisms, while others kept whispering about the era the designer's style came from. Other than that, the outfit was generally well received. From the corner of his eye, he saw Haru and Kaori relax.

There was a sharp pang along the side of his chest, as his mind returned to the interrogation that day. And when he sat there, gazing at Haru, Tooru's image popped up into his mind once more.

Natsuno couldn't help but wonder if Kaori saw Tooru as well, if she was there for the same, twisted reasons he and Shimizu were. Tooru was the one that suffered, first at the hands of Shimizu, then at the villagers' stakes, but Kaori didn't see the body. She didn't hang around him much, if any, because she was younger. Besides, she was fighting for her own survival, after all.

Natsuno turned away from the two and continued observing the upcoming models. Each and every one had outfits that complimented their natural beauty. Hardly any had makeup on, which was a bit of a rare phenomenon nowadays. Though there was clearly some story being told, some deep mystery much of the audience was trying to solve, one thing was certain; all the outfits were for the models. The designs weren't meant for Shimizu to touch, or sully, for that matter.

But the colors were so dark, so horrific, that Natsuno couldn't help but be reminded of that scorching night. He couldn't help but remember the field of corpses he ran through, the screams and agonizing pleas as the humans killed them off, one by one. The fires were already there, the heat destroying his sanity bit by bit, engulfed in some innocence not even he could comprehend. Past feelings of betrayal surged forward, along with the desperate wishes of trying to preserve some defunct tradition.

And suddenly, there he was, standing over the bodies of two dearly departed friends. That very same, decadent peace washed over him. He could feel Death implement those tempting wishes, whispering to him thoughts of suicide and crude mercy. _What a pitiful way to die, _it seemed to say.

He was lost in the translation.

What snapped him out of his trance was that familiar, revolting scent diffusing through the air. Sharply, he looked up, and saw that same, black figure approaching from a distance. Shimizu caught that scent as well, and was starting approach him. He clenched his fists when Toma started waving at him with both arms.

To his right, there were already people shouting, scrambling to get away from the careening police car racing straight towards the tent.

* * *

Megumi stared at the strange boy, who was just now starting to put both his arms down. He grinned at her with that idiotic smile Haru would give her, though genuine kindness had been replaced with something much darker. She put her hand cautiously on her hip, all the while toying with the ax hidden so neatly behind her back. Everyone has cleared the streets, and with one flicker from her eyes, she automatically knew that there was no one hiding along the shadows either. Still, she gave him a compassionate, motherly smile, and asked if he was lost.

The boy, Toma, she figured, shook his head, while that horrid aroma came off his body so easily. "Sorry miss," he said happily. "I was looking for someone, but I found him though!"

Megumi kept up with her farce, and ruffled his head.

Then she heard a crash.

She felt every muscle in her body stop, as chaotic stimulus behind her grew more and more chaotic. The shock stole her mind.

But…but how?

_How the hell did he even get past her?_

"You shouldn't go there," she whispered worriedly. "It looks pretty dangerous. Why don't you go-?"

"No! You see miss, my friend's waiting for me over there! I have to get to him as soon as I can."

"Look, sweetheart-"

Toma reached over, and bit her.

Megumi's pupils automatically constricted, the red glimmering against the dark. She shoved him away, the force causing him to rip away bits of flesh. She gripped her neck, and jumped away, the ax already in hand. The wound sealed up, just as quickly as it appeared, and she glared at the now satisfied Toma.

He kept licking his lips, savoring the taste of her blood and muscle. He sighed, and looked up to her.

She lunged forward.

Her eyes traced his moves, and she swung the ax accordingly. However, with each swing, Toma managed to move his foot out of her attack. She gritted her teeth, and vanished through the air. She reappeared behind him, then grabbed his neck and slammed him to the ground. She raised her ax, and stared coldly into his face, when she stopped.

He was laughing.

_He was laughing his freaking ass off._

"What?" she demanded. She stood and slammed his chest with her heel. "What the _fuck is so funny?"_

He never answered her. He just kept laughing and laughing and laughing, all the way to the now indistinguishable cries from afar. Even through all the pain, and even when he was coughing up blood, he was still laughing. He wasn't struggling, like the others did, nor was he listening to the sounds of his ribs cracking, his limbs being chopped off. He still kept laughing.

"DID NOT EXPECT THAT!" he screeched, howling at some unknown entertainment she provided him. "REALLY! I didn't!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she muttered quietly. She raised her ax again, and was about to behead the boy, when, all of a sudden, he disappeared.

"Do you really want to know?"

Megumi hastily turned, and found him standing there, only a few feet behind her. She held the ax in both hands, the hostility already taking over her veins. Toma, however, gave her a sultry smile. "Megumi, I'm guessing? Megumi…Shimizu?"

"Who wants to know?!" she shouted.

"I see…you were from Sotoba too, weren't you?" Toma began his laughing fit again. "Oh my gosh. This is…" he held his sides. "This is just too damn funny…" He steadied himself then, and took a deep breath. He calmly stared at her with those glassy, lifeless eyes. "To think…to think that someone as "kind" as you was caught up in that incident…"

"Just shut up!" Megumi took a threatening step forward. "Just who are you anyways?"

Toma slowly began backing away, and eventually, he fled into the darkness, with Megumi in pursuit. She caught a sadistic smile painted on his face, as he led her through that psychotic labyrinth.

"You already know. Your little boyfriend met me the other night."


	38. Chapter 38

Kaori swept through the crowds, the frantically chaotic atmosphere bombarding her from every side. Shoulders hit her forcefully, trying to make their way from the scene, as the gunshots rang loudly from her ears. Her eyes darted from spot to spot, trying to push past the torrents of people, her fingers clawing at whoever just to get closer to where she was before. "Yasuhiko-san!" she screamed. "Yasuhiko-!"

She fell hard on the ground, and grunted painfully. Her hands slammed onto the pavement, while the brutal force of their legs attacked her arms. Once more, she stood, steading herself before being dragged along that pointless race with the mobs.

She looked around, hoping desperately that Yasuhiko-san would suddenly pop up somewhere, grab her hand, and lead her out of this mess. Still, she couldn't help but look behind her, wondering just what had become of that once enchanting display.

The tent was already buckling underneath the impact of that police car. There were a few officers emerging from the vehicle, guns in their hands, as they began shouting threateningly for someone to stop, to turn themselves in, to do whatever…else they would go berserk. People were falling to the ground, holding their injured limbs, pleading with their assaulters to not shoot. The candles were setting the entire scene thing on fire, and the dry, winter air simply fanned the flames. Wild bullets shattered the crystal trees, the glass shards spraying everywhere. Models, onlookers, reporters, idols; all were scrambling just to get out of the way, ripping away the clothes Kaori so happily admired just a second ago.

She was about to turn back, when her foot got caught somewhere. She fell again, with that fiery horizon in her sight.

People tripped over her. Their heels smashed into her body, their uncertainty felt with the crushing weight of their toes. She gasped, and tried picking herself up again, only to fall once more. Her pigtails were being stepped on, grounded into the concrete like the troublesome, entombed insects she saw the other day. Couldn't they see her? Was the event really that bad?

_Yasuhiko-san, _she begged silently.

Hot tears fell from her eyes, her voice built up from somewhere in her throat. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he waiting for her somewhere? Was he calling out to her too?

She felt a hand on her arm then.

It yanked her up to her feet, then led her from the tainted spot she was residing in. She blinked her tears away, the surprise etched on her face. And obediently, she began following that person. "Yasu-" she began, when she looked down at that hand.

Black.

A black glove, with a skull on it.

This wasn't Yasuhiko-san.

Her eyes trailed up to the person saving her. She recognized the light brown hair now racing ahead of her, and the same, humiliating eyes she'd come to hate ever since she got here. He wore a black trench coat, and a silver, choker on his neck with a bat flying behind. She was about to take slap his hand away, when she felt his grip tighten, causing her to wince.

"Come on you dork!" Ken screamed. "Cops are here!"

"W-wha-?"

"What?" he screamed back. "You wanna get buried alive by these losers?"

"…How did you…?" But the question faded with the sounds of footsteps and cries. She turned around, the panic rising in her chest as the realization crammed itself into her thoughts.

The police…the police were _shooting _at civilians.

Who were they? Did Mr. Saito know about this? Again, she tried to stop, tried to see if there was anything more she could see from the situation, only for Ken to tug sharply at her again. Suddenly, she was at his side, his left arm shoving her waist forward.

"W-wait! What about-?"

"That freak can take care of himself!"

They rounded the corner. Ken allowed her to fall behind again, but kept her hand firmly in his as they fled into the shadows of the buildings. They pulled into one alleyway, only to come running to another street. As the seconds passed by, people started disappearing one by one, until finally, it was just the two students there, racing ahead as if a monster had just come to life from some distant nightmare and were chasing them down. The cries became more and more distant, until finally, Kaori ceased hearing them at all. At last, she threw herself away from his grip and froze, panting heavily.

Ken leaned against an old, run-down office building, his hazy breaths diffusing through the air. Kaori couldn't help but look around at where they were, pondering at the icy darkness surrounding them. Everything looked old; any second now, they'd be reduced to nothing more than dust, wandering from one place to another. Some of the windows were broken, with gang symbols sprawled all over in red paint. There were a few light-posts here and there, which added to the eerie event. "How…how did you-?" she began.

"I was invited!" Ken snapped, a scarlet flush shoving itself across his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed, resigned by the incident. "My dad's a photographer. He was supposed to take pictures of the models, then pose with the designer. Well, fat chance of that." He then turned pointedly toward her. "I'm not stalking you. I just happened to see you there with the freak. That's all."

Kaori straightened. "He's not a freak."

"Kaori, he's in the _yakuza-"_

"That doesn't make him a bad person!" she replied irritatingly. "He just doesn't want to get involved!"

Ken's eye twitched. "Kaori, he's _killed _someone-!"

"Those are just rumors!"

"I'm serious!" he shouted, storming up to her and grabbing her wrist. "Even if they _are _rumors, there's a lot of truth to them!"

"Like Sotoba, right?"

"This is different Tanaka." he continued on. "Police came and everything."

Kaori glared at him, and took a step back. "You're _lying-" _

"Don't trust me? Then just ask everyone else! They'll tell you he's actually killed someone! Hell, ask the cop that was chasing you! He did the entire investigation _himself!" _

Wait.

What?

The frustration came to a grinding halt, and all the anger she felt toward Ken immediately vanished. A cold, cruel thought popped into her mind, as she stared at the seething boy, who continued to pour out evidence of Yasuhiko-san's alleged crimes. His words were muffled, muted by compassionate memories from what it seemed to be some other world. She felt something spill from her eye, which cascaded down her cheek, followed by every emotion she felt at that moment. All the breath in her body was knocked out, while she steadied herself, trying to avoid falling on the ground again.

When Ken looked at her then, he stopped, in the midst of the confusion. "Hey," she started softly, "what cop?"

Ken stared at her, before turning toward her again. "Yuki's dad."

Her mouth was slightly agape, the crushing blow elevating the brokenness in her frame. "What…what are you-?"

Ken looked away. "I…I saw him, before he was leaving. He kept screaming your name, and…and how he was going to bring you justice…or something…like that…" He closed his eyes, and fell silent.

No, not now, _especially not now. _She took a deep breath, and quickly wiped away her tears. "Did you hear anything else?"

"N-no. Not really. Seriously though, what'd trouble did that…guy bring you?" She could hear the reluctance in his voice, the anger, the confusion of whether or not he should comfort her or hunt Yasuhiko-san down.

But that perception wasn't right; he had nothing to do with this. Kaori fully intended on removing those suspicions.

"It's not like that," she explained. "Mr. Saito…thinks I killed his daughter."

He raised an eye. "You were in the hospital though, weren't you?"

"Y-yeah, I was rescued."

"Shouldn't he be going after your savior then?" he asked, as he let go of Kaori and crossed his arms against his chest.

"I said the same thing," she replied calmly. "He just…won't listen." She clutched her sullied coat tightly, ignoring the red ring around her wrist. "If I could just remember what happened that night, then-"

"That doesn't matter; he shouldn't be chasing you down like this. You do realize that if this gets out, he's gonna have to resign, right?"

Kaori warily gazed up at the boy in front of her. "You're…you're not upset that Yuki's-?"

He scratched his head awkwardly. "I can't say I am. Yuki had a lot of enemies, and no one really liked her much." He groaned then, and shot a tired smile at Kaori. "What? You think I'm the one who did it?"

"I…I don't know." She turned around, and once again examine the entirety of the almost unearthly calmness around her. She rubbed her eyes, and held herself close. All in the span of one night, when she finally caught a glimpse of peace, the dream was dashed aside by the very trouble she caused herself. The newfound friend she accompanied managed to slip from her grasp, and now she was stuck here, with a stalker that persistently kept on with his little, torturous games. No matter what he said, she couldn't bring herself to believe him, even if he help her at one point in time.

Life, as she saw it, had a very dark sense of humor.

"It's all so confusing," she admitted. "As…much as I hate to say it, I kind of expected this to happen."

He stared at her for a little, then took a step forward, and offered her his hand. "We should go."

She kept herself back. "I…I want to go back."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Yasuhiko-san might still be back there," she said. "I'm not just going to leave him there!"

"He can-"

"I don't care."

The two regarded each other evenly. Time seemed to slip from their bodies, with neither backing down from the proposal. At last, Ken sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll take you."

"It…it's fine-"

"I had nothing to do with that," Ken said softly. "Look, I never chased you. I never did any of those things, and I haven't got a clue what you're talking about. And if I did, then I'm sorry."

Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand, and proceeded to walk back to the chaos.

* * *

_Why is it always fire?_

Natsuno stood there in front of the collapsed tent, as the police officers drew closer and closer toward him. Toma's smell radiated everywhere, and the glassed over looks weren't helping in easing his confirmed suspicions. His dark eyes picked out the details of their uniforms, badges cast aside, as well as the handguns they held tightly in their grasp. They were all terrified; no one knew what was going on.

Natsuno took one step forward, and lunged forward.

That was when they began firing.

A bullet grazed Natsuno's cheek, and another whirred past his face in all its accuracy. He felt one hit his arm, yet he continued through the assault, knowing full well that the panic they managed to incite was now affecting their systems as well. He managed to get behind one of them, and, with one hand, grabbed his throat and broke his neck.

The other three senselessly shot at the jinrou. Natsuno grabbed the man's head and used the corpse as a shield, before tossing it up in the air. The gun barrels followed the body, allowing Natsuno to lunge toward them with perfect ease. His hand pierced the officer's skin, and decapitated him neatly. The other officer charged behind him, and attempted to shoot at his skull. Natsuno simply, swirled behind and stabbed his arm through the man's stomach. He drove his arm upwards, effectively cutting half his body in half. It felt limp to the ground, twitching convulsively at the sudden attack; it stopped only after a few seconds.

Natsuno turned to the doll now shooting at him from afar. He didn't have to dodge any of them; he already knew Saito was a terrible shot. Natsuno narrowed his eyes, as he caught that same, human light, the one Tooru once chased after, seemingly disappeared from his pupils. Slowly, he started walking toward the man, clenching and unclenching his bloody fists.

He stopped a few yards in front of Saito, and stared at him for a while. The officer kept pulling the trigger, but none of those precious bullets were coming out. Still, he kept trying, not understanding how pathetic he looked. Natsuno stuffed his hands in his pockets, and regarded him evenly. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked once again, his stoney demeanor returning.

Saito blinked. "Where is she?" he muttered murderously.

"Who?"

He flinched at Natsuno's icy tone, but he kept his ground, unwavering at what it looked to be…a father's love. "You know her!" he screamed. "Where the hell is she?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!" he cried agonizingly. "Where is Kaori Tanaka?! You were there that day, in the police office! You were there! You were that guy, right?! Her little boyfriend or something?!"

Natsuno caught the familiar grey lines stroked across his hair. In that instant, he looked exactly like his dad, who cared for him earnestly even when Natsuno had risen up, who lay there, in Shimizu's arms, that night, during the hospital's destruction. But Natsuno refused to soften, and instead, shoved his hands in his pocket. "What do you think you're doing?" he repeated in that hypnotic voice of his.

Saito shook his head vigorously. A twisted, heartbroken smile gradually appeared on his face. He threw the gun aside, and pulled out a small, fragile knife from the back of his belt. "Where is she?!" he screamed.

"Calm down!" he shouted.

"No! Where is she?! Where the hell is she?! WHAT'D SHE DO TO MY DAUGHTER YOU FUCKING BASTARD?!"

He started racing forward, the tears streaming from his eyes, not even bothering to look at the corpses of his dead subordinates. He disregarded them completely, the rage overtaking his mind, with the tip shining mercilessly in the bright, orange lights. He kept seeing his father and this guy, intwining in every way possible. What? After he stabbed Natsuno, was he going to invite him into his house for something? Was the man even going to get better, after all of this?

So Natsuno simply closed his eyes, and stepped aside. He tripped Saito, then grabbed his shoulder and crushed it in the palm of his hand. Without hesitation, he drew the man back and stabbed between his shoulder blades, surely but surely making his way through to the human's tainted heart. Natsuno felt its frantic beats, the tiny thing connected by veins, protected by ribs and blood alike. He grabbed with his right hand, and tore it out.

He allowed Saito to crumple to the floor, while crushing the tiny thing in his hand. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the officer's lifeless eyes looking up at him, with that same malice he knew too well.

Natsuno stared at his victims for a while, and cocked his head a bit.

Funny, how remorseless you become after a while.


	39. 39 Motive

The windows were wide on that one, sunny day, revealing a multitude of people passing by, not a care in the world crossing their lifeless faces. The shops were busily trying to draw in customers as they had every moment, some with tempting coupons, others with billboards, and even still with free samples that didn't even pertain to what they were selling. All the while, Haru and Natsuno sat there, in that same spot as they usually did, in that same warm, homey cafe. There were two banana nut muffins in front of Haru, with a bottled water to go with it, while Natsuno had nothing of interest around him.

The tiny restaurant was bustling, what with the afternoon rush hour. Just a minute ago, the two boys were gazing at the businesslike customers, trying to determine which industry they represented. So far, most of them were in finance, doting on a certain air of prestige, while the remaining few were into fast food, their grotesquely obese stomachs rolling away at their already wide pants. It was an amusing way to spend their time, and it could've remained that way had not Haru decided to stray from the topic at hand.

"Deadbeats."

"Huh?"

The boy immediately turned toward his companion, and laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry. They all kind of remind me of Asaka."

Natsuno blinked, then turned back to the scene in front of them, the curiosity overtaking him. "How so?"

Haru squinted his eyes and got a better look at the men and women in line. He sat there in silence for a bit, before finally, he answered the shiki. "It's just…they're all so arrogant, living out their lives like that."

"It's normal."

"No, it's not." Haru slipped his elbow onto his seat, gazing at them with contemplative eyes. "They're so normal that it's _abnormal. _They're probably just as impatient as they were yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before _that_, with those same dull eyes. No matter what anyone else is going through, or how bad things get, there they all are, just off in their own little worlds, thinking that nothing bad's going to happen to them. It doesn't matter how close they are to whatever disasters are looking for them; in a way, they think they're invincible."

One of the employees caught Haru's eyes. The two held each other for a long time, regarding one another in that threatening manner. At last, the man turned away, leaving Haru a hollow victory. The boy scoffed. "You see that? He knows I'm right. He just doesn't want to admit it."

Natsuno narrowed his eyes. "Asaka again?"

The boy froze, unsure of what to say. A few moments later, he resigned to his helplessness. "He got drunk and started molesting a couple of minors in a bar."

"You saw it?"

He shook his head. "No; mom did."

Natsuno leaned in. Normally, Haru would never mention his mother, except when it came to her alleged utter stupidity and indifference to her son's wellbeing. It was clear to him that Haru did care about her in some way, though at this point, his compassion was being severely tread on. If anything, she might as well have been tap dancing on Haru's last nerve.

The boy sighed. "I don't understand why she would stay with someone like that. She's obviously seen our house, and how much money he's been spending. But no; I don't think she even gives a damn about reality. She's just fooling herself into thinking she's in love with that asshole." He took a sip from his water bottle, gripping it tightly, trying to alleviate as much of his frustrations as possible.

Natsuno stared at him in surprise. "I didn't know you could swear."

He barked out a harsh laugh. "Doesn't everyone?"

Natsuno closed his eyes, and went back to the line, which was now beginning to pour outside the cafe. He couldn't help but wonder what stories they would tell, if they were feeling the same, anxious pressures as the human in front of him. "Asaka's the leader of the faction in Tokyo, isn't he? Shouldn't he be making some money on the sidelines?"

"Not a freaking dime," Haru muttered. "You know, sometimes I wonder if this would be any easier of he was rich or something."

"I doubt it."

"But then he'd at least be able to pay his own filth. He wouldn't have to rely on mom to do all his dirty work." He took gulped down the poor muffin altogether, before throwing his napkin away.

"Trapped inside a dream that isn't truth, while having no way to support yourself…that's what a deadbeat is, right?"

* * *

_Megumi turned back to Yuuki. Again, she looked down at the police files, and recalled their conversation long ago. She narrowed her eyes. "You think he had something to do with Asaka's death?"_

_"__I don't know. As of this point, there's no one around to watch over him."_

_"__You've found out where they're hiding already?"_

_Yuuki nodded. "I'll go to Kabukicho tomorrow. There are plenty of yakuza members there. And if we take control of the group there, it'd also be a good source of income."_

_"__So it's not just Haru then?"_

_He never answered._


	40. Chapter 40

Megumi scrambled frantically through the silence, clawing her way in the darkness, as she sensed for Toma's presence. Her wild, crimson eyes searched through the loneliness, endeavoring to determine where he was hiding, where he was going. His laughter echoed through the passageways, as the blinding cold kept up its pace, refusing her any rest, no matter how hard she begged.

She spun around, finding herself further and further from the lights behind. Slowly but surely, the new, fine buildings she'd gotten used was now conquered by rust and ruined, with that faint, unmistakable smell of neglect diffusing throughout the air. She could hear tiny animals running about, trying to catch a glimpse of their intruder, while running out of her way, trembling underneath the force of her existence. She kept going deeper and deeper into through those fallen edifices, and from there, she slowed her pace. His stench was everywhere. She could feel him watching her every move, his smile separating every single vein from her body. She steadied to a halt, gripping the ax with both hands.

She caught his shadow from the corner of her eyes, and sliced a window into a million pieces, the tension still radiating from her shoulder blades. She grunted.

"Scary," he taunted.

She turned around, catching the faint shimmer of his face. Her body rushed forward and smashed a mirror. She collected her thoughts and kept herself back.

"Wow, you _are_ cute. Just like he said."

"What the hell are you after?"

"I want what every kid wants; to catch the bad guys, Ms. Megumi." She saw him twirling around his fingers; she turned around, finding no one there. "Still," he continued, pointing himself out in every direction possible, "I didn't think villains had a backstory. Then again, the more tragic the character, the more epic the story gets. You agree, right?"

"Just shut up. What do you know?" Again, she caught his body, and aimed for it, but once more, the blade sliced the glass in half. The shards cracked at her feet, crumbling underneath her anxious footsteps.

"I know a lot," he said, his childish tone echoing from the depths of her mind. "I know about that little village out in the boondocks. Sotoba, right? Quite the mess the you and Koide made there, wouldn't you say?"

The ice in her body never released its grip, its wary claws turning her attention to every possible shadow near her body. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she refused to relinquish her guard. "How'd you know-?"

Toma smirked. "It's easy to dig files up like that, what with the delicate hold you've got on the police. Thankfully, that troublesome situation's over. Gotta tell you though; we were shocked to see the death certificates. And that you _weren't_ human? Some epic moments you gave us there; I dare say you managed to alleviate a bit of my boredom."

She scoffed then. "So now what, huh? What're you gonna do? You mad because I burned your precious hospital to the ground?"

"No. In fact, I'm grateful to you."

Megumi narrowed her eyes, which prompted more of the already painful conversation. "I was getting so tired of the same old stunts, and I was just waiting for someone to pull the plug on the whole thing. I'm not mad at all, and neither is my partner."

Partner? Yes, she remembered Yuuki saying something about that. And it was those words that made her bare her fangs, the darkness disappearing from her pupils. "If you're that thankful, why are you hunting us down like this?"

From the window in front of her, she saw Toma behind her, shrugging with that same, smug grin on his face. She swiped the ax again, cutting through the empty air. "How rude. My _partner_ is hunting you down, not me. Something about justice, or some other nonsense like that. Truly heartbroken by the entire incident, mind you. And he thought he put the whole killing thing behind him too-"

"What'd you mean?" Megumi hissed quietly.

"What do I mean? What do _I _mean? So you're _not_ that selfish anymore? World doesn't revolve around "little-old-me" anymore?" She suddenly felt a sharp, stinging pain from the back of her head. She grunted and turned, finding Toma standing there, the immature grin now faded from his face. He stared at her with those cold, endless eyes, and revealed his own fangs. "You know Ms. Megumi, I never really liked people like you."

"What?"

He flipped hand grandiosely, imitating that stereotypical teenage girl the shiki had come to know all too well. "I _detest _people like you. I've hated the way you always seemed to look down on others, and how you always always _always _let your emotions get the better of you. You aren't supposed to mature really, in this little, itsy bitsy world of mine, yet you somehow how managed to do it.

"You piss me off. A girl like you shouldn't have risen up. You should've just stayed in the ground like the good little bitch you are, right?" Then, with a sick smile, he closed his eyes and made a heart with both his hands. "You and Koide both."

"Yuuki has nothing to do with that!"

She had him in her line of sight; just a clean cut, that was all she needed. She lunged forward, and moved her ax to the side of his throat. The blade was just about to engulf his entire head in a bloody mess, when all of a sudden, his fingernails came down, and scratched away her eyes.

She fought down a scream, and jumped back. Her eyes were tightly shut, the cool aroma of her own blood gushing down her cheek. She felt every desperate move her veins were making, rejuvenating themselves in all their speed.

She felt Toma's icy breath down her neck, his hands coming up from behind her shoulders. "Koide's the same way; did you know that? All wrapped up in his petty sorrows, and doesn't didn't even notice how anyone else felt about that little rebellion. What? Did he try committing suicide or something? Was that the noble sacrifice he was hoping for?"

"JUST SHUT UP!"

He was close…

Megumi swung her ax and connected with Toma's body. She ripped apart all the organs, the bones, the flesh, anything that stood in her way from cutting him in half. Her eyes were almost finished healing too. With a triumphant, albeit shaken, smile, she opened them.

Sunlight.

And warmth.

She jerked back, gripping the ax tightly in her hands. Her eyes were wide with shock, taking in her surroundings, with the burning confusion beating against her mind. She recognized that soft, summer breeze that normally would've eluded her completely, and the sonorous wind chimes dancing to some lonely dirge off in the distance. She was on that same dirt path, a path that led to nothing but humiliation and embarrassment whenever she walked upon it, with familiar rice fields surrounding her like so. The verdant weeds stuck out of clear, glistening waters, with their respective masters conducting that similar melody every time their hands worked. The cicadas chirped in their usual, annoying way, with tractor noises accompanying them, as if attempting to burden her as well.

She recognized this place.

She did.

Her heart tore at it.

Megumi twisted her body angrily, ignoring the shock which had already paralyzed her mind. She couldn't think of anything, none at all. She couldn't understand what was happening, her emotions in the throws of chaos. She was still holding her ax, and the same Gothic outfit embraced her fully. She wore her pigtails in her regular, routine fashion, and her red eyes shimmered brightly, even along this scorching route.

She was about to scream, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned, ready to rip the boy to shreds.

She froze.

The ax fell to her feet, her fingers unwilling to move. She kept backing away, though her legs screamed at her for doing so, her arms limp to her side. She was speechless; she could taste the bile rising from her throat as she tried forcing the words from her mouth from a breath she could never regain.

"Megumi?" her father asked then, his stern tone tugging away at her memories.

"…ah…"

"Megumi, what are you doing here?" He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be at school? And what's with that outfit? Your dress is already bad enough."

Megumi turned away, her eyes darting back and forth, seeking out Toma in all her efforts. No way; Toma wasn't going to put her through this. This wasn't going to happen. This was all fake; most everyone she ever knew has already disappeared from her life, so what was the use of returning?

Besides, she's already burned this stupid, uncool village to the ground; she wasn't going to experience the same thing again. She opened her mouth to tell him off, to tell the crowds that were slowly gathering around them just how much she hated them, how much she wished for them all to disappear, how annoying they were, how pathetic and worthless and _disgusting _they were…

But her voice wouldn't obey.

Why?

Look at all of them! All of their happy, smiling faces, faces that couldn't even _begin _to understand how ambitious she was, faces that couldn't _see _how idiotic their way of life was, them _and_ their stupid traditions! Wasn't that the reason why the village disappeared? Wasn't _that _the reason why they were wiped out by the Kirishikis? Wasn't it?

So why?

_Why?_

"Megumi!"

She turned, finding her mother racing behind her with that amicable, motherly smile of hers, all her vulnerabilities laid out for all the villagers to see. Her pupils trailed to the boxed bento in the human's arms, with a childlike laughter raising from her throat. "You forgot your lunch! What? You wanted to take a walk around the village? Well, I suppose you have another hour or so-"

Megumi tuned out the rest of her words, as she began shaking her head, with something cascading from the surface of her cheeks. "No," she whispered quietly.

Her mother's smile faded a tiny bit, though she managed to stop within a few inches of her. "I know it's embarrassing, but you can't just keep starving yourself like this." She tried shoving the box into Megumi's arms. She let go, only for food to drop to the ground.

She laughed hesitantly then, while Megumi heard her father approach her from behind. "What is it? You're not feeling well?" he asked.

Her mother crouched down. "Come now dearie. You're in high school now, aren't you? You've got a lot of big dreams, heading off to the big city and all that. You've got to have your strength, right?"

Her father groaned. "You're still going on about that? You should settle down once in a while, get together with a nice boy from the village. Going clubbing every night isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Just…just shut up…" Megumi murmured softy, reluctantly.

The mother stood up. "Don't act like that. You need to keep up with your health."

"Shut up," she repeated.

She flinched at the harshness of the father's voice. "Don't talk to your mother that way. You should know better-"

"I said shut up!"

Air?

There was…_air _in her lungs?

The feeling was so strange. Though she knew she should have come to terms with it, for some reason, it felt off. This wasn't right. She should already be dead. She shouldn't be breathing right now. Not at all.

But Megumi didn't dwell on that fact long. The tears grew more profusely, rubbing against the cold, icy surface of her neck, then piercing the ground with its brilliant insignificance. "What do you know?" she screamed. "What do any of you people know?!"

"Megumi-"

She shoved the mother away, and twisted around toward the villagers, staring at her with their judgmental eyes. There they were, picking out all her faults, all her insults, the weird ideas she displayed in front of them, the strange nightmares she gave them…the deaths she's caused around them.

"You're all supposed to be dead! Why are you all even here?! Toma! Where are you?! Where's Toma?!"

One of the neighbors stepped forward cautiously, their hands outward, as if trying to defend themselves from her attack. "Miss, what are you-?"

"Be quiet!" Her eyes wildly searched through the audience of missing people, their faces no longer memorable in her mind. "Where is he?! Toma!"

The whispers have already started.

Those old hags leaned toward one another, forming those detestable cliques in which she nor her family had no part in, as the gossip circulated around her so easily. Those very same eyes gazed at her haughtily, having every intention of isolating her, as they passed their judgement onto her. She saw the familiar shape take form on their lips, the familiar sounds which brutally beat Megumi's ears, as if she'd never grown at all.

She balled her fists, losing control to the anger ahead of her. "I…I AM! I'm living in the big city right now!" She took a step forward, causing most of the villagers to flinch, though it was in no way enough to halt their voices. "I'm working for a major fashion company right now, and I'm living in a penthouse with plenty of space! I've been hanging out at clubs every single night, and I have a lot of friends! People accept me for who I am! People love me because I'm me! I don't care what you idiots have to say! I have everything I could possibly have ever wanted! Understand?!"

"What a spoiled little girl," was the first thing she heard.

Immediately, she sharply turned to her father, who grimaced at the scene and looked away shamefully. Her mother…did the same.

Megumi balled her fists and opened her mouth to protest, but was stopped by another villager.

"Couldn't Takeo do any better? Seriously, doesn't the man know how to raise his own child?"

"How disrespectful."

"What a burden this girl has become."

Megumi tugged tightly at her sleeves. "It's…it's not true-"

And then, all of a sudden, they all gazed to her, emotionless and unreadable. "Of course you are," one of them said.

"We've had to put up with your strangeness for all these years," another chimed in.

"You yourself were change."

"You threatened us, didn't you? Our traditions and everything we stood for."

Again, Megumi attempted to deny the accusations, only for her defense to come empty handed. So they continued with their already relentless assault, enjoying her crumbling morale, her vastly vanishing sanity.

"You know, we were glad you died."

Kaori.

Megumi stared at her, disbelief clouding her mind. The girl she protected for the majority of their childhoods, the girl she would share every single secret with, no matter how embarrassing it was, the girl that even Megumi wanted to bring into her tainted, corrupt world, the girl who's father she attacked, the girl she saved just a little while ago…

Was now voicing her true thoughts.

"W-what?" was all that came from Megumi.

"We all were just waiting to bury you in that hole, you know?" She cocked her head in that adorable way, with a saccharine smile adorning her lips. "You were always complaining about how boring this village was, and we've just had enough of it!"

"I…Kaori-"

"What? Did you forget?" That smile faded from her lips, replaced by a darkened look that gave way to this never-ending madness. "You betrayed me. You betrayed everyone here when you were first born into this world. If only the doctor strangled you with your own umbilical cord, then maybe this tragedy would never have happened."

She stepped away from the villagers, and made herself known, to the judges, to the defendant. "Isn't that right? If you killed yourself now, then _maybe_ we'd forgive you."'

"Stop it…"

"I know!" She placed her thumb to her chest, and pressed against her blouse. "You can cut yourself here, and perhaps we'll overlook a death or two."

Megumi kept shaking her head. "Don't say that…"

"Or if you gorge out your eyes, we'll give you a few more hours."

"Please, Kaori…"

"What? You're _sorry?" _A cold sneer erupted from the girl's normally peaceful, relaxed face. She clutched her sides, shivering against the icy malice behind her, and hissed, "Monster."

"…I'm not-"

"Don't deny it. We all know what you are, and we were all simply doing our part to get rid of you. Purge the impure for the sake of a better future. Isn't that right? Megumi?"

The next thing the shiki knew, the ax was in her hand.

And in front of her was a head, rolling away from her feet, with a collapsed body against her feet.

Megumi didn't know when she lost control. The air became too hard to breathe, their stares too hard to bear; living had suddenly become a burden for her. She clung to that thought with all her might, her sorrows erupting from even the midst of the bright, hellish light. She swung her ax, and decapitated another villager standing by, then another, then another. She heard them chanting something, their prideful laughs carrying them to their unspoken graves, together forever in the cliques she desperately wanted to belong to. She kept chopping them up, kept destroying them with every technique she could have possibly imagined, with every motive she could have carried.

She kept slicing away at pieces of flesh, the blood staining her ax red. From the reflections, she saw their lives taken away at the instant, one by one falling to the edge of her dark, horrid dreams. She couldn't laugh, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything of the sorts; she only wished for her trials to end.

Even when their heads lopped off, she could still see their devilish smiles, still see them laughing at her like wild animals gouging out their next meal.

"Megumi…" Kaori whispered delightfully. And almost instantly, the voices all chimed in.

"Megumi…"

"Megumi."

"Megumi!"

The first thing she saw when she woke from the dream was Yuuki.

There he was, his hands on her arms, shaking her away from the illusions she'd seen. He was breathing heavily, and from his clothes, she could smell Saito's blood all over. That same scent… and along with it, the cold, crisp moonlight that was baring down at the both of them. There was no breath in her body, no pulse to sing with the rhythms of her now silent heartbeat, no jury to sentence her to the tribulations of life. There was nothing at all.

She never heard what the jinrou had to say next. She looked down, and saw her own intestines wrapped around her fingers.


	41. Chapter 41

She was crying.

She was crying, and he _didn't know what to do._

Natsuno held Shimizu's wrists down again tonight, as he had for the past two weeks now. Her crimson eyes would scan the darkness, shaking frighteningly, as if something waited for her in that once sweet, beloved, corruptible darkness she slumbered in so thoughtlessly. She would shy away when he tried to approach her, and flinch at the slightest movements around her. All the while, she would use her fingernails and injure herself, scratching so hard until she started bleeding. When he left her alone, she would tried gorging out her organs like she had many times over; sometimes, it'd get so gory that he'd find her dragging out bits of flesh from her body.

And when she wasn't harming herself, she'd merely sit there, with with that blank expression on her face, as if all her fiery will had suddenly disappeared from her grasp. He would hear her whispering, conversing not with anyone in particular, but to the demons that were ravaging her mind. Sometimes, it'd be "I'm sorry," while other times, "it's not my fault."

She wasn't doing it because she wanted to. After all, she wasn't willing to risk any of her budding career; she worked hard on those designs. Recently, she even started talking about opening her own company, since "those morons are clearly color blind." Her bosses have started calling here, and frankly, Natsuno was running out of excuses to give, both to them and to Haru, who kept inquiring about her health.

If Haru saw her like this…

Natsuno grunted painfully when she tried wrenching herself out of his grip. He managed to avoid being scratched at, though there were multiple times she's come close to breaking every bone in his body. Though he didn't want to admit it, she was incredibly strong; she hasn't even been feeding, and she could still give him a hard time. He didn't want to look at her, knowing full well how emaciated she was.

But that's just it.

She didn't _want _to feed.

She was now fighting even the mere notion of drinking blood. Whenever Natsuno lures one of the yakuza members here, urging her to eat something, _anything, _she would simply shove the man away, curl up in a tight ball, and tremble. There were times when she sobbed at any mention of the word "blood," and her cries would be so frequent he would find her trying to rip her own lips away, purging herself of that necessary temptation.

It took him a while to realize she'd been domesticated.

It's gotten to the point where Natsuno had to ask himself if she remembered anything at all. Even now, just as she was about to, once more, overpower him and try beheading herself with that ax, he couldn't help but look at her. She just looked…so pathetic.

She was nothing like the killer he envisioned.

Tooru came into his mind, along with Haru, and Kaori, and his father. In fact the entire village stood before him as he held her down, passing a sentence through a trial he never knew had existed. Some faces were cruel, others were sympathetic, and yet still, some cried out against that silent ruling. Her agonizing sobs added to the detail of the scene, apologizing over and over again for crimes she did and didn't commit. Tooru stood over her, with a cruel, satisfied smirk. He said something, but Natsuno couldn't make out what.

Then, he stared at the jinrou, with that same smile.

His eyes were cold, metallic, unbending to past memories and relations. Masao followed suit, then Tatsumi, and then Aoi, then Kaori, the Akira… He couldn't make out anything they were saying.

What?

Was the verdict the same?

What was he being punished for?

_Damn you_.

"What the hell do they see in you?" he asked emotionlessly, no hesitation evident in his voice. He tightened his grip, causing the shiki to wince painfully. "You think a few petty acts of kindness can write your wrongs? You think you can just live here peacefully, when you know you've murdered so many people? You even attacked your best friend's family, so what makes you think you can just live out your dream?"

He wasn't sad, or depressed. He didn't even feel justified in those plentiful accusations, however true they were. But he kept going, pondering on that eerie, tranquil feel. "You know, Tooru never did anything to you. He was always nice to everyone in the village Shimizu. You should know that."

Slowly, he lifted his hand, and callously stroked her throat. Red rings decorated her left wrist, so much so he was almost certain he broke it. "So I can't help but wonder what made you want to take him away from so many people. I can't blame Tatsumi for the attack, since you alone were enjoying yourself."

Shimizu's broken eyes stared into his, unable to comprehend the words he's so harshly given her. She stopped struggling then, and smiled, taking on the appearance of a dead person. Subtle anger flowed through his veins, as he reminisced on that supposedly forgotten innocence.

"Like you, he was a dreamer," he stated quietly, pressing his trembling tightly against her neck. "He wanted to take a simple drive with Ritsuko. I'm sure you've seen her. She worked at that clinic, back in the village.

"That idiot had a really big crush on her. Kind of like Haru with you now." He kept squeezing her esophagus, and made no attempt to mask the pain, yet he kept his silent demeanor.

He caught that lingering desire in her eyes. "What? You want me to kill you now?"

When she nodded so very eagerly, he was just about to throw up.

She was so obedient it made him _sick. _

"Then what happens to Haru? And Kaori, and my dad? Are you really that selfish? You're not even going to own up to this living hell? You're just going to run away?"

That childlike look returned to her face, and once again, he had to look at this writhing, pitiful creature.

Natsuno chuckled emptily, and removed his palm from her throat. He cupped her mouth, and pried her lips open, revealing a pair long, gleaming fangs near the side of her jaw. "You know, I never even got to _thank _you for saving them." he scornfully remarked.

Her eyes widened, and immediately, she whimpered. He knew she was getting weaker, and any moment now, her instincts will take over. How long until then, however? He grunted. "Stop being stubborn."

She shook her head, her nails pawing at his arm. Amazing; she couldn't even break through skin now. "Come _on_ Shimizu."

She continued resisting.

"I know you're starving."

And still…

His patience snapped. "The _least _you could do is _live!" _he finally screamed. "You think you're gonna get the chance to die?! You think life's that fair?! Don't be so naive-!"

She released herself from his grip. Her legs fell on top of his, and suddenly, Natsuno found himself buried underneath the piles of blankets and pillows resting on that small, beat up couch. He felt her tongue on his neck, delicately picking out every single vein lying beneath his skin. Her body sank into his, throwing her arms around his neck to prevent any means of escape. She lost control, at that moment.

And she bit him.


	42. Chapter 42

_Mr. Saito is dead._

The words rang against her ears like an unwelcome alarm, cornering her mind until she was finally forced to wake up. Kaori huddled at the foot of her bed, refusing to let of an already suffocating Love, who trying to worm his way out of her iron grip. He was lapping up her tears like, somehow, it would help make the horrific pain go away. She grasped his fur, ignoring his surprised yelp as her fingernails dug into his skin. She felt his tiny paws scratch against her arms, all the while questioning his mistress's sanity.

No matter what she did, it was no use. The night was so dry fresh in her mind, the breathless puffs of air passing by her so very quickly. His cold, lifeless body was still there, lying across the many other corpses that suffered the same fate. The hole in his chest, as well his twisted, contorted face, left a permanent scar across her brain. Whenever she closed her eyes, what could have been his last, torturous last moments, clinging to life without much thought, was what she had to contend with. In fact, it was the very image that kept her company for the last few days; she didn't dare go to school, for fear she would see Saito appear right before her, haunting her to appease his restless rage.

But what shocked her most was the aftermath, of when she ran away from the crime scene. She did whatever she could, just to escape from the impossible depiction of her ever growing instability. She didn't care if the entire display was cowardly, or if it made her look like a loser; as long as she was far enough away, to the point where she could just forget everything, the action was good a solution as any.

Then she saw her.

Megumi.

She had on a dark, pink tank top, and a black miniskirt that made her seem more terrifying than anything else Kaori could think of. Her ponytails were there, just as Kaori remembered, and for a brief moment, it seemed that the vampire in front of her had remnants of a childhood she longed since forgotten; the pain was so real Kaori had to turn away.

When Kaori mustered the courage to look again, it seemed the ghost was ready to rip its entire throat to bits. There was a stream of blood dripping from its bright, red lips, along with three, deep scratch like wounds that ripped away the seams of its torso. Its eyes were blank and dull, with tears cascading down its cheeks, as if it was trapped inside some nightmare it had trouble waking from.

She couldn't move, couldn't do anything. Her heart froze in fear, and her blood iced over, holding her down with excruciating strength. She pressed her arms to her chest as she stood there, gazing at an okiagari that somehow managed to follow her all the way here…

Her instincts took over then. She had to leave. She had to get away. She had to do whatever it took to survive, even if it meant trampling over her wishes, her dreams.

So, in a sharp, twisted breath, Kaori turned, and ran away, praying that it was nothing more than an illusion.

But then again, her opinion never mattered much, in this big, heartless world of hers.

Slowly, she began recalling things she never thought would have involved her. She began to see Yuki, and Saito, and Yume, and everyone else who seemed to vanish from her new, demonic life. Vague but familiar moments would pass through her abnormal eyes, which, in the end, would always end in tears or simply more confusion. She remembered her arm dancing to some unbeatable pressure, the scorching pain alone almost causing her to pass out. She remembered that faint, soothing voice that gently commanded her to sleep, even though all her instincts screamed at her not to. She remembered that very familiar shadow, which took a form she'd seen before, like a person shattered from some distant memory she'd rather forget.

Questions raced through her mind, all of which demanded more and more of her time. Was that ghost involved in Hitoshi-san's murder? How about Yuki's beheading, and Yume's disappearance? Did the okiagari have anything to do with Ken's rampant behavior before? Was it trying to scare Kaori into submission?

Hot tears fell from her eyes. She bit her tongue to keep herself from sobbing, though a few tiny, blubbering sounds managed to make their way through. Kaori vowed once before that she wouldn't give into her that monster's grasp. She didn't want to let Megumi take over her life; she didn't want to go back to being that weak, naive girl, when everything was falling apart around her. She wasn't going to let the past take over her life.

So why did she feel so defeated?

There was a quiet knock on her bedroom door. A warm, muffled, fatherly tone immersed her in the midst of her torrential ruin. "Kaori?" Mr. Yuuki called quietly. "Do you feel like eating anything today?"

She didn't answer, but instead, loosened her grip on the poor dog. He scrambled out of her lap and nudged her thigh with her head, pleading softly for just one breath of fresh air. Her eyes slid toward the alarm clock nearby; almost noon. In a few more minutes, Mr. Yuuki will have to leave for work.

Her looked up when the man continued talking, though this time, an air of disapproval rang through the air. His calm voice grew hasty, rapid, things Kaori never would have otherwise heard from him.

She then shrugged. He was probably just talking with Akira. It seems that they've, once again, decided to leave her alone for the day.

She returned to her thoughts then, engrossed completely by the influx of distress, followed by that same cold dismissal from her rational side. She'd been getting phone calls from the school for the last two weeks now, some from Kosei-sensei, others from former bullies whose reputations were trashed simply because the teachers believed they pushed her to suicide. Ken came by multiple times; his frequent visits probably concerned Mr. Yuuki, and much to her relief, he sent the boy away.

She clutched her arms tightly, and braced herself against the harsh realization life enjoyed dumping on her. As of right now, she wasn't ready to deal with trivial normalities, or even the slightest of insults that, normally, she could just laughed off. All concerns of making people worried for her were cast off, the hopes of making it through that stupid city high school all naught.

She sighed, and tilted her head comfortably against her arms. She closed her eyes, mentally encouraging herself to catch up on some sleep. The doubts kept attacking her for the past few days now; all she's ever done was lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling,sorting out thoughts that were always beyond her understanding.

Huh, Love managed to make it out of the bedroom. He did make a good pillow…

"Tanaka-san?"

Kaori's eyes shot open. Her head automatically bounded upwards, and hit Yasuhiko-san's chin.

Even when he sat there, holding his jaw painfully, her brain hadn't fully registered his presence until only after seconds later. She blinked, a very hot flush seeping toward her face. She uncurled herself. "I um…I-I…a-re you-?"

"D-don't worry about it," he said jokingly, recovering from the surprise attack. "I'm fine." He paused then, the humor gone from his face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Kaori wiped the dried streams from her cheeks, and gave him a sad smile. "It's nothing. But that's not the point; aren't you supposed to be in school? What about your friends and… what _happened?_" she added frantically when she caught sight of the large, white bandage on his left cheek.

Yasuhiko-san dragged his bag next to him, and sat directly across from her. He crossed his legs and stuffed his already long arms in his lap. He tried giving her his genuine, adorable smile, but he failed miserably. "I'm sure they won't mind. Besides, I got all your homework for you. Oh, and I met Ken on the way here. He was in a _very_ good mood today."

"No way…Ken did that…?"

Even as her voice faltered, Yasuhiko-san showed no hostility. "Don't worry. I showed him who's boss."

"…meaning-?"

"I wrote a strongly worded letter on my way over here, and I plan on giving it to him tomorrow."

She didn't know how long she stared at him. The only thing Kaori could think of was how much of a moron he was, a heroic moron who was probably going to get himself killed someday. His compassion alone was more than likely going to be the end of him. She could picture his funeral now, with that goofy smile in the coffin, and a small, tiny animal he rescued a few seconds earlier in his arms.

And before she knew it, she started laughing.

Yasuhiko-san gazed at her curiously. "What? What is it?" he asked seriously. "You think that's too much? Well, he deserved it, and-"

She shook her head, the sorrows fleeing from her mind. "N-no, it's fine." She straightened herself, and forced another giggle down her throat. "Anyways, I was pretty sick this week, so I haven't been able to attend school much. Did I miss a lot?"

"Apparently," he answered, unzipping his bag and pulling out an armful of missing assignments. "He also told me to tell you that you've got a test next week. Chapters 5 and 6."

"Got it." She pulled her hair away from her eyes, and scanned over the assignments. It was nothing new, and she was working ahead of the class anyways. But the bandage kept claiming all her attention…

She decided to ask Yasuhiko-san what had happened. He scratched his head awkwardly, and turned away, as if trying to come up with an appropriate excuse. When he opened his mouth, all the lies he spontaneously came up with instantly disappeared. "He thought we were dating, so he was just trying to show me who the tougher guy was."

"You're kidding…"

"It's true." He chuckled lightly, reminiscing on the incredibly aggressive conversation. "In fact, he's so tough he got himself kicked out of your house the moment he showed his face at the door."

"I've got to thank Mr. Yuuki for that."

"That older guy?" He took out a black folder, and pulled out a worksheet from it, along with an essay that was supposedly due today. "He looks nice."

"He is," Kaori assured as she took the pen he so graciously offered her. "He can be kind of scary at times, but he's really protective and kind. I love him."

"No wonder Ken got his ass kicked."

She laughed a little. "Yeah. Hey, I'm sorry about the other day…you know, for ditching you-"

Much to her relief, he waved his hand, dismissing the matter with that same, relaxing mood. "It's my fault."

Kaori held her breath. "Where were you?"

"Back at the train station. "

"O-oh." She turned to the side, looking at a in her room corner that was invaded by cobwebs. There the harmless, tiny spiders were, working busily on their silky nest. "I was at the park. Most of the models were there."

"Yeah. While we're on the topic, did you hear the news yesterday?" He leaned in a little, with a concerned light surrounding his pupils. "The cops were shooting at the crowds for some reason. Ten people died."

"I…I see…"

"It included the four perpetrators." he continued as he leaned his back against the wall. "The chief-of-police was with them, so it's a pretty big deal."

"Do they…know why they did that?"

"Well, the detectives right now are saying the chief was already on the verge of a mental breakdown. I mean, his daughter was murdered, right? Yuki Saito?"

"Yes." Kaori took a deep breath, and gazed at her companion with contemplative eyes then. Something just came to mind. "Yasuhiko-san?"

"Hmm?"

"You mentioned something weird and scary was going on, and you're trying to get to the bottom of it. Do you remember that conversation?"

"Of course. What about it?"

"What kinds of things are you investigating?"

He stared up at her reluctantly, and once again, she saw that same, secretive face of his. That personality looked so different from the Yasuhiko-san she'd come to know and care for. It was in that atmosphere that carried the most tension, and frankly, Kaori couldn't help but wonder just went on in his mind. He narrowed his eyes, and inched closer toward her. "This is just between us, alright?" he whispered.

"Why…why are you-?"

"Because someone could be listening," he stated, his eyes moving from window to window. When Love trotted back to the room, his little paws scratching the floors in that cute way of theirs, the boy covered the dog's ears with both his hands. He leaned in a bit closer, which prompted Kaori to do the same. "Well?" she asked.

"Aliens."

Kaori couldn't help but smile for the rest of the day.

* * *

The apartment complex greeted him like it usually did, its pristine surface reflecting everything around him. Lampposts adorned the main entrance from both sides, with iron gates settling into a Victorian, medieval look he'd grown fond of. Stone arches kept swinging from wall to wall, with wooden doors shimmering in their golden numbers. Two giant oak trees bore down at him in the front lawn, with their dead, fallen twigs snapping underneath his feet. Brown leaves surrounded him helplessly, doing whatever they could to calm themselves from the depression radiating from his steps. What appeared to be a tall tower to his dar left housed a tiny, ruined bell that fell prey to the weather and neglect; a light filled window was just below it, to counteract the devastation night pulled him under.

Haru stepped onto the metal staircase, fishing out from his pocket the key to his room. Unlike his last residence, there were no maggots, no flies, no bodies lying out on the front lawn. There weren't any random undergarments scattered everywhere, the clean, civilized environment radiating with chastity and warmth. It was more expensive than the last apartment, but he managed to secure a steady income, so it was worth it.

When he came inside, he set his bag down, shut the door, and looked around emptily at the large, comfortable room. His new futon was hidden underneath a large, ornate table, a cheap one that reminded him of Megumi's. It had a desk light on it with tiny anime stickers that somehow made the entire thing…look normal. The bookshelf settled toward the back of the room held all the police documents he managed to steal, along with a free magazine that advertised Megumi's thrilling yet outspoken designs. He had an entire closet to himself, a few new uniforms peeking out from the door; the outfit he wore for the school's fashion show was still in there somewhere, buried along shards of glass he saved from the abandoned arts district. The white, velvet curtains remained untouched as always, and the tiny refrigerator hummed in that same, recognizable pattern.

He took off his shoes and seemingly began gliding on the clean, wooden floorboards. He sauntered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He grabbed an apple and slammed it back, munching on the morsel while leaning against the countertop.

"So, what's your next move?"

Haru's eye twitched at the sound of the familiar voice. He never, however acknowledged the boy's intrusive presence. "You found them?" he asked.

Toma smirked. "Of course I did. They're free to use at your own will."

"What about Yume? Did you give her the drugs?"

"Yes." There was a piercing silence between the two, before finally, Toma snickered. Haru turned irritatingly toward the boy. "What?"

"What's your next move?" he repeated.

"There's still something I've got to confirm first."

The boy crossed his arms against his chest, and scoffed. "Oh? And what would that be? You know, if you don't move on that little idea of yours-"

"I know," he snapped. At that moment, he regained his composure and sighed, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. His eyes slid to the now twilight sky, and immediately, he felt his impatience grow again. He hadn't meant to talk with Tanaka-san for so long; she just seemed so depressed…

Toma examined him for a bit, then hopped up on the countertop and crossed his legs. "Are you still going to try and defend them?"

"Don't know."

"And what of your friends?"

"_Don't know," _he answered resolutely, his eyes sliding back to that bookshelf far off in the corner.

The files kept staring back at him, taunting him relentlessly, dissolving whatever pride he had left. He could easily remember every single paper, all of which had to do with Sotoba's mysterious deaths. He remembered seeing their medical reports, shifting through aimless counts of scientific observations, thinking he himself had gone mad through all of this. He remembered looking at a list of all the people who died in that village, with photos of the deceased that appeared to be tortured in the most grueling of ways. He remembered seeing their death certificates.

And he remembered his own, nonexistent lie.

A lie he wasn't even entitled to.

Haru took a deep breath, and leaned back against the refrigerator. "Are you really that bored of Fawn?"

Toma looked up surprisingly, but he nodded. "He keeps showing me the same things over and over again."

"Any change?"

He pretended to think. "Yeah; he's taken a bit of an interest in this case."

"Experiments?" he asked lazily.

"Most likely."

Haru stopped, and turned toward Toma, the adrenaline kicking in. Nothing went through the boy's mind, nothing at all. Only a thick layer of protectiveness coated the betrayal he hid so carefully from everyone he knew, a feeling that remained close to his heart. "Is he targeting them?"

"He is," he finished happily. "So…_what's your next move?" _

Haru threw the apple core away. "Did you find the body?"

"I'm working on it."

"Does Fawn know who his precious killers are?"

"No."

"We'll use Yume then." Haru replied finally. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned away from the boy.

Toma raised his eyebrow. "Are you gonna use that girl again as bait? You really can be cruel sometimes-"

"Shut it." Haru spat.

Toma gave him a devilish grin. "You know, I feel sorry for her. You're using that pretty little delusion of hers to get whatever the hell you want."

"Quiet."

"Isn't that right…Yasuhiko-sama?"


	43. Chapter 43

When her eyes opened, with that familiar, sweet iron coating her tongue.

She was alone, in that same studio of hers. Dark, ominous clouds gathered over the city in their usual foreboding manner. Car lights below gleamed in their same manner, while crystalline buildings remained where they were, glistening along the thunderstorm's orchestral crescendo. Her heavy curtains blocked out whatever light could have possibly reached her, though oddly enough, a shadow or two still managed to display itself across her walls. Though she was already used to the deep black, she was having trouble removing the sluggish haziness from her brain, and the fact that covers of warm, soft blankets surrounding her did no good. Crimson droplets fell from her lips and onto her collarbone, and she reached up to wipe the liquid away, she stopped.

Slowly, her pupils trailed downward, revealing a trail of blood that was leading away from the couch and toward the door.

Her eyes widened, and immediately, she thrust away the covers and leapt toward the door. Her fangs were still out.

Whose blood was this?

She was about to turn the knob when she froze, the recollections bombarding her all at once.

What happened to the fashion show? How'd she get here? Where was Natsuno? Where was Toma? What about Haru and his friend? Did they make it out alright? What happened?

How long had she been out?

She bit her lip and turned back, changing out of her blood-soaked clothes and donning on her now worn-out purple dress. Hastily, she shoved her black heels on her and grabbed her keys, purse, and folder, before racing out the door, not caring whether or not the sun would make a surprise appearance today.

She ran to the elevator, the tip of her heels echoing their striking indifference toward anyone who got in their way. Though elevator was still open, there were a few people already jammed inside, some of which were adults with minds already planning out the day, others students who became too lethargic to even care about expectations. She held the door open with one finger and forced it back, stepping in without the slightest regards. A few observers looked up with annoyed faces, glaring at her hatefully for practically making them a few seconds late. She simply brushed them aside and tightly hugged her purse to her chest.

As the elevator descended the building, the rain-filled maelstrom leaning near it with its chaotic flare, the situation began to dawn on Megumi, shoving her back to the reality she's missed out on.

They screwed up.

She didn't know how, but somewhere along the line, both she and Natsuno gave something away. Her mind retraced back to the Daiki's group, and concentrated there for a bit. No, aside from her first name, she didn't give out any other viable source of information, and she highly doubted Natsuno would trust them so easily. They even made sure there were no photos left behind, no records indicating where they came from, what they'd been doing. Supposedly, that was the end of that.

Natsuno took control of Haru's peers, as well as the yakuza, to make sure they had a monopoly on those very detailed threats. And though Megumi lost control over the police, it wasn't like she bit them. She maintained their hypnotic states in the event the two returned to receive investigative reports, files, anything that could make this problem any easier to work with. There was no possible way Toma could've tracked them then.

The company she worked for never gave out her personal information either. Hell, they didn't even do a freaking _background check. _Give a name and age, and design a portfolio, and they'll set the prospective employee to work. She's never showed her face to the audience or the models, and she was certain no one took any photos; the technology wasn't that advanced. The apartment she lived in proved worthless as well; as long as you can pay for it, they were willing to let you live here. It wasn't the smartest or most careful way of doing things, but at the very least, she depended on that secrecy. She depended on that ignorance.

What else was there?

The elevator stopped, allowing the tense workers to pour out into the hallways, she along with them. Megumi kept dancing from one possibility over the other, frantically analyzing every detail she could have missed when she heard the clerk call her over. "Ms. Miyuki?"

Megumi stole a look at the woman. "Y-yes?" she asked.

"Are you leaving for work?"

Funny. She hadn't even realized she still had somewhere to be. "Y-yes," she managed answered. "Did they call here?"

"They were just wondering when you'd be coming back." The clerk gave her a wary gaze, and asked, "You _are _going back, are you? You can't just-"

"I know. I'm going there now."

"Good. One more thing," the clerk said just as Megumi was about to leave. "A Murakami called. They would like to see you as soon as possible."

Murakami.

Her boss.

_Crap._

"Fine," Megumi replied calmly, before spinning her heel and racing out the door.

The rain cried out agonizingly, hitting every person who stepped outside almost instantly. She was no exception, the powerful winds attacking her from every different side. There was a point when she almost lost her balance as she was crossing the street, making sure the designs weren't wet. Various groups of people pushed forward persistently, making their way toward their designated work places without the slightest regret of heading out. Quite frankly, Megumi was incredibly grateful that the company building was a just a mere few blocks away, when the rest of the workers had to stand out in the middle of the sidewalks, waving taxis over to come pick them up. In her opinion, the entire scene looked like some raging ocean.

When she came inside the building, the uncomfortable awkwardness bombarded her. She stood there for a while, trying to figure out of she should just walk back home and pretend she was sick, or kneel down and beg for forgiveness, or…or what?

She tampered with the outfits in the previous fashion show, and now all of Japan had seen the clothes. If she ruined the profit margins, she'll have to shoulder all the blame. She was new here, after all, and she could easily be replaced with someone who harbored no ambition or defiance in any ounce of their being. And besides, what right did she have to even tamper with the outfits? They were made by _experienced _fashion designers who had a good eye on what the _public _wants; they didn't pay any attention to individual tastes or even a select clique, but to a world where one little screw up would mean the end of them.

Maybe she should just go home.

She was actually about to walk back to the apartment when the secretary caught her. The woman was working through a ridiculous amount of paper work, sitting there with a bunch of graphs and schedules on her desk. The atmosphere around her was intimidating enough. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked in a stern, businesslike manner.

"I um…I'm…the intern here."

"Miyuki?"

"Yes."

She gestured the girl toward the various, ostentatious hallways. "Mr. Murakami would like to see you. First door on your right." And with that, she returned to her work, though her eyes were fixated on Megumi. The shiki clutched her purse, and, not willing to deal with the secretary's authoritative air, she resigned herself to whatever consequence awaited her and went further into the building.

The moments were long and torturous as she made her way toward the door, but she pushed herself forth, mustering whatever pride she had to left to construct the entire argument in her mind. Well, for one thing the designs were absolutely _horrific, _and, though she didn't know yet, she knew she helped improved them tremendously. Surely she couldn't have caused _that _much damage. If anything, she might've even helped with their work; it was a good way to let them know how stupid they were being, what with allowing those types of clothes on the market. She personally saved society from wearing them, so they should be thanking her.

She was just about to die of embarrassment.

She stared at the large, french door with those black, endless eyes, her body unwilling to move any further. Various ramblings jumbled across her mind, along with a multitude of disappointment speeches and probations that would have garnered a humiliation that might as well have made Megumi hide on that couch for the rest of her immortal life.

"Yes?" a muffled voice sounded.

She jumped, and stared down at the doorknob. "It's…it's Miyuki."

"Come in."

She creaked open the door slowly, and peered inside.

She clutched her purse, and opened the door a bit wider. Surprisingly, there was nothing in that room, other than a few canvasses displayed along each wall. Colorful handprints were splattered all over the carpet, along with a few eerie smiley faces that seemed to track her every movement. Incoherent scribbles were sprawled all over the ceiling, with kanji symbols she couldn't make out.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw a man observing the childish interior. He wore a business suit, like everyone else usually does, and had brown, messy hair that absolutely refused to resemble anything professional. His hands were placed neatly behind his back, while he reread the gibberish over and over again. His skin was pale, with the slightest hint of blue coloring over his shadow. She could hear his heart beat slowly, the blood pouring from one artery to another without the slightest clue of abnormality. It was the first time she saw him in person like this.

She took one step inside when the alleged elitist said, "You can just shut the door."

She did just that, all the while looking around the room. No desk, no window, nothing official looking that could make this any easier. No wonder they had no fashion sense. Still, she stood attentively, practically ready to do anything to appease his wrath.

The two stayed in silence for some time, before the man finally said something. "I've been getting a lot of complaints."

"I…I can explain-"

"No need," he stated simply. "No damage done."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Really. I'll admit; it's different from our usual style, but once in a while, the public likes change. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I…I do."

"Sales have been going up as well. You can thank the advisors for that."

"Y-yes." Megumi fixed her eyes upon his back, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. "Sir…?"

"Very sorry," he replied calmly. "I only wanted you to see our company's policies."

Policies? She walked toward him, her muscles relaxing at the prospect, though the confusion was very evident in her eyes. She twisted her body, gazing at all of the immature creations before her. "What'd you see? About the room, to be specific."

She straightened, surprised at how subtle…how abnormally quiet his voice was. "It's…unique, in a way."

"You think so?" He turned toward her. "Anything catch your interest?"

"I just-"

"Think it's pointless, I know," Mr. Murakami finished easily, removing one of his hands and stroking the walls carefully. "All the other designers said so too. Don't worry; you're not in trouble."

Megumi bit her lip; she wasn't making a good impression at the moment. So she squinted her eyes, and stared harder, attempting to gage each symbol, each insignificant color that managed to blind her. "Did the other designers do this?"

"No. A child."

"…A child?"

"Correct. It's been a while since he's been here." Mr. Murakami traced the crayon lines with his index finger from one side to the other, following the lines with exquisite accuracy. "Around twelve years almost. I haven't been in this room in a while."

The nostalgia was etched onto his face so readily, and the longing was so familiar that, for some reason, Megumi couldn't help but wonder who this person was. Was he somewhere else, in a foreign land where he may have been forced to hide amongst the populace? Was he a wayward son? Was he alive? Dead? Did he have a family to take care of, a lover to sleep with, friends to care for?

She was about to speak when Mr. Murakami turned to her with a slight frown on his face, grey, cold eyes that made her snap her own mouth shut. She could make out the veins from around his neck, as well as the outstretched collarbone suffocating his neck. "What do you think about becoming an official designer for this company?" he asked.

She blinked. "Sir?"

"We could use someone as incredibly bright as you. You're an intern, aren't you?"

"I…I am-"

"Then starting tonight, I would like for you to supervise all the designs here. You've been sick for a while, am I correct?"

"Y-yes-"

"Do that then. Would you still like the nightshift?"

"Sir," Megumi interrupted.

He blinked. "Do you want the position?"

"I do, but I was just-"

Mr. Murakami shrugged, and went back to his observing. "I asked a question, and you gave an answer. That's all there is to it."

Megumi stared at the man for a while, before finally satisfying her rampant curiosity. "Who was he?"

"I don't know." he replied. "Never really got to know the boy."

* * *

"You went with someone?"

"Yeah, a friend."

Natsuno smirked playfully, leaning back against his chair with a coffee in hand, while Haru kept going on and on about Shimizu's success, and how practically everyone loved her. Apparently, her clothes have been on every magazine cover in Japan, and there were so many stores wanting the individual designs to be mass-produced that the host company had trouble keeping up with the orders. It didn't matter that outfits were a bit dark, nor did anyone care who the person was, or where they came from; as long as the demand was being filled, almost everyone was willing to overlook that tiny detail.

Haru took another sip from his water bottle. "It's only been a month, and she's already making a name for herself. How cool is that?"

"It is," he answered. "So tell me about this friend."

"O-oh." Haru scratched the back of his head and laughed awkwardly. "Well, she's really nice, and we're always talking-"

"Is she cute?"

"I don't…I mean, I guess." Suddenly, Haru looked up with a confident fire in his eyes. "But even though she's pretty, Megumi will always be in my heart!"

Natsuno's eye twitched irritatingly, but he managed to suppress the annoyance. It was the same thing, over and over, and really, he was beginning to tire from all the compliments. Still, that's how he usually was; there was nothing Natsuno could do about it. "Speaking of which, Megumi's alright now."

Haru blinked. "So…I can go see her? Is that alright? I mean, she won't…you know-"

"No. You're a very close friend. She's happy you came to the fashion show. And," he leaned closer, "she's wondering the same thing, by the way."

"I told you, it's nothing!" he objected, blushing frustratedly at the jinrou's persistence. "She's a classmate and a really good friend! I like her, but it's not like we're…wait…is she jealous?"

Natsuno barked out a harsh laugh, which made Haru's happy expression vanish altogether. "No. We're both just curious. It's not like we get to meet anyone from your school."

He pouted, before stuffing the entire muffin into his mouth and gulping down the remainder of his water. "I'm not that pathetic. She was just curious about how our school's mysterious designer was doing. She really was amazed."

"Good to hear." Natsuno placed the coffee near the edge of his lips, watching the empty streams the rain gave way to. Their silhouettes were easily reflected from the glass windows, depicting two people there. He picked off the facades one by one, determining which one was the more burdensome, which was the more threatening. His mind kept going back from conversation to conversation, rearranging the already obvious acts Haru kept giving to him. He flicked his eyes toward the boy and smiled sadly. "You haven't been come around."

"Sorry," he whispered sheepishly. "I've been really busy, you know." He paused then."Um-"

"Shimizu keeps complaining to me."

"That's good," he answered, setting back into his chair. "At least you guys aren't fighting anymore."

"You should still come by. She's been worried about you."

"I-I know. And I will. I've just got a lot of school stuff to take care of."

Natsuno examined his wide, innocent eyes. "Something happen?"

"No, everything's fine."

"Haru."

The boy stared at Natsuno for a bit, clutching his empty bottle in one hand. For a brief moment, Natsuno could see the struggle in his eyes, his brain wringing itself, trying to come to some decision he had no involvement in. Finally, he said, "I feel like someone's been following me."

"A stalker, you mean?"

"Don't know. It's just a gut feeling."

"Did you go to the police?"

"I've got no evidence. And besides, its not like they've done anything. Hey, did you hear the news?"

"News?"

He nodded. "Yeah, about what happened after the fashion show. Everyone at school's completely terrified right now."

"You really should go to the police then. Who knows? Might even be one of Asaka's goons."

"Y-yeah. I don't think so though; as of this point, everyone's trying to lay low until the police catch this guy."

"I see."

Haru hesitantly looked up then. "Hey, Natsuno?"

"What is it?"

"You're…you're not hiding anything, right?"

"Where's this coming from?"

"Just…just asking."

Natsuno narrowed his eyes. It was such a simple, basic question, something he wouldn't have minded answering. It would've been just another one of those regular afternoons, with them joking around as they usually do, without the slightest regards to anything around them. The moment was so ironic he was on the verge of laughing.

"No," he said finally.


	44. Chapter 44

Kaori sat on the bleachers one afternoon, the gym's stench reaching her nostrils with perfect accuracy. With her head on her hands, she slouched lazily against the metal as she observed one player rushing from basket to basket, with that very same uncertainty taking place in their faces as they attempted to make back to the goal. The ball switched from one hand to the other, seemingly intensifying their fans' admiration with every second past.

The girls beside her watched intently, readying themselves for when one of their beloved idols made a goal. They gripped their bags closely, their eyes following the group of boys, doing whatever it took to catch a bit more of what their uniforms hid. Someone bumped into Kaori, and said a quick sorry before returning to their regularly scheduled fan-service.

That's right; someone from that particular group invited Kaori to watch one of the basketball team's matches. Generally speaking, she _was _fairly excited. The sport never aroused much of her interest, but at least she'd have some girl friends to hang around with. It appeared to be a welcome distraction; after all, Megumi had yet to leave her mind, and Kaori didn't have the slightest clue about what to do yet. Maybe some time away from the whole problem would help Kaori decide what she wanted to do. Well, the alternative was better than nothing.

However, she never believed that _this_ was the kind of thing she'd coming to. The boys weren't even trying to win the match; all they were doing was posing for the girls. Whenever one of the teams scored, they would always wave to the bleachers with predatorily gazes, hoping that, at most, one of their devoted slaves would be brave enough to come down and faint.

She sighed, and closed her eyes. Haru had something to do today, so he wasn't able to go to school, and she didn't feel like spending another moment at home, suffocating an already desperate Love. She was in no mood to deal with Akira's constant questioning, nor could she stomach her blush whenever Mr. Yuuki made that stray comment of boyfriends and sex and such.

She hadn't been sleeping well in a while either, so this could very well be the perfect opportunity. It's not like she had anything else to do, right?

"Tanaka."

Her eyes sprung open.

She automatically stood, grabbed her bag, and was about to leave when she felt Ken's hand on her wrist. She stiffened, and turned toward the boy, resisting the urge to slap his fingers away. "Please let go," she whispered urgently when the girls started cheering bombastically.

"Look, about the other day-"

"I don't care. Let go," she repeated, trying yanking her arm out of his grip. He gritted his teeth and yanked her closer, the determination set in his eyes. "_I won't. _I need to talk with you about something."

"We can talk tomorrow-"

"You've been avoiding me every single day Tanaka. We need to talk _now."_

"I can't just leave-"

He callously brushed her request aside and spun his heel, dragging her from the bleachers and out of the gym. There were no teachers around, no peers to answer her calls for help. He tightened his grip when she began struggling, clawing at his hand with her fingernails, stopping in the middle of the way, only to find herself sliding on the tiles. All the while, Ken kept walking, never once looking at her.

When they reached an empty classroom, he thrust open the door and thew Kaori inside. She stumbled in, the sudden absence of his fingers giving Kaori's wrist some much needed air. She angrily twisted toward the boy, and clenched her fists. "What was _that _for?" she hissed.

"You were being difficult," he answered. He shut the classroom door and leaned against it, cutting off any hope of escaping. Still, it did little to discourage Kaori. She regarded him evenly. "Let me out."

"Not until you tell me what happened."

"That's none of your _business-"_

"Really?" he challenged, folding his arms across his chest. "My ex-girlfriend was just _fucking murdered, _and her bat-shit dad and his friends decide to shoot at a fashion show for apparently no _fucking reason._ I saw the bodies Tanaka, and let's not forget that I'm the one who saved you that night._ So don't tell me that it's none of my damn fucking business." _

"I don't know anything, if that's what you mean." she snapped, imitating that same, defiant expression. "I have to get home now-"

"_Look," _he said, taking one threatening step forward. "People are _dying _Tanaka, and it's pretty obvious that you _do _know something. Yuki hated you with a passion, and so did her dad-"

"You think I had something to do with it then?!"

"Unless you tell me otherwise! What the hell am I _suppose _to think Tanaka? That the girl I like is actually some deranged serial killer?"

She was really pissed, at that point. "Enough with that!" she hissed. "Stop lying! You keep playing this _stupid game-" _

"This isn't some stupid _game._ What, you think I'm _joking_?" He pushed himself away from the door and stormed toward Kaori. He grabbed both of her shoulders, shoved her toward against a desk desk, and slammed his hands down on either side of her. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face.

"Let go-!"

"You think I'm _lying _about all of this?! Tanaka, I like you! I really do! What the hell do you think I've been doing for the past few _months?! _Ever stop to think about how you're making _me _feel? What, you actually _like _toying with me or something?!"

"Just shut up!" Kaori screamed, beating against his chest with both her fists. In the back of her mind, that psychotic night returned; the very essence of Ken's violence began taking its toll. The resilience was still very much in her body, so much so she raised her hand and slapped him.

The piercing noise did nothing to deter his advances. Immediately, he grabbed her hands and pressed his hips against her legs so she couldn't move. "What do you know?!" Kaori continued. "Just because a few random events come around, you think that somehow, _you're involved?! _Don't be so arrogant!"

"_Listen-" _

"Quiet!" she demanded. "You think this is easy? What do you think this is, some kind of drama you watch on TV? You think that if you play the hero, then everything's gonna get better? _It's not, alright? _It's not just some problem that's gonna go away in a couple of weeks or months or years; this is _different. _The last thing I need is some stalker _prick _who keeps sticking his nose where he doesn't belong!"

"You're not gonna trust me, but you're gonna throw yourself to _him?" _he shouted. "I might not be like your perfect little _freak, _but at least I'm not going to abandon you!"

"We were separated! That's different from-"

"From what?" His grip tightened, causing Kaori to wince. "Huh? From a couple of bodies lying on the ground? You want to play out some Gothic romance novel? You think you can just solve every problem that comes your way without any help? You think you're gonna be some heroine, save the day, get the guy in the end?! Life isn't like that Kaori! _You should know that!" _

"And you think you can just make all the pain go away?!" she screamed finally, blinking away the tears that were now falling from her eyes. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she wanted nothing more in that very moment to disappear. She never acknowledged the quiet, nor did she even pay attention to Ken's shock.

"Yasuhiko-san isn't a Prince Charming! He's not a knight, and he's not even perfect! But he's not a _freak _you damn bastard! He was the only one I could rely on for support! He didn't fool around with other girls like you did! If anything, I'd rather wait for _him _then just go off on my own!"

"Tanaka-"

"Just shut it!" she continued, her hostility fading away bit by bit. She took a deep breath, and stopped fighting. "I'm sick of hearing you talk. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

Slowly, she felt his grip ease up. From the corner of her eyes, she could make out the bruises around her wrist, and when she looked through her tears, she saw his shame-stricken face. He moved away a tiny bit, giving her some room to sit up but not leave. She never took his offer, and just lay there, not willing to come any inch closer. "If you're gonna do something, then do it," she said finally.

"Who do you think you are anyways? You always seem to judge people by your own fucked up standards."

"Just shut up," she murmured softly.

"If you don't want anyone else to get involved, then do it on your own." Ken said finally, shoving her down on the desk and turning around. "But don't you dare drag anyone else into your little problem. That_ includes_ your little boyfriend."

* * *

The building was ominous, overbearing in its presence, from the cool, steel shine the moonlight gave off, to the brick walls which housed curious flashlights and rumors from long ago. Shadows danced from here and there, overlooking whatever suspicions that happened to be along the way. Tall, black gates stubbornly warded off any of the visitors from entering the buildings, patients and businessmen alike, along with a few security guards who were doing everything they could to keep away from their charge. Cameras circled around the exterior, the bright crimson eyes capturing everything that moved with its grainy, uncertain screen. With the exception of a few windows, the entire company was in complete darkness.

Natsuno scanned the ebony, watching tensely as the guards passed him. He closed his eyes, and searched for Toma's scent, before breathing a sigh of relief. He slipped from the bushes and made his way toward the iron door. He crouched down, and with Shimizu's pin, he picked the lock and forced it open. His black pupils scanned the hallways before moving in, leaving no trace of the break in behind.

Warily, he looked around, and found no monitors there, no human walking the corridors. He clutched his fists, and walked down the hall, listening to the various conversations from the top floor, the sound of pills dropping on the floor carelessly, the aimless lullabies sung to ease the nervousness of being in such a large building at night. He could the machines whirring on with their work, scanning diligently for the ingredients before advising the pharmacists on what to do with them. Pleasurable overdoses took place in the offices, along with cries of agony which echoed through his eardrums. All of which, he had to remind himself, were from the researchers themselves.

Last night, he interrogated the remaining members in Asaka's group. No, they haven't seen anyone like that. No, they weren't particularly concerned with the murders, but they did admit that they _were _a bit worried about their leader's silence.

Natsuno's ears perked up, and when he started questioning them about Haru, they mentioned the American business Fawn, along with a company in Denenchofu where the long-awaited meeting was originally supposed to take place, before being moved to a hotel in Azura. Aside from the pair staying in the hotel for a few days, and Haru moving somewhere else, nothing stuck out for them. His own apartment complex was abandoned long ago, and since Asaka liked luxury, no one bothered checking up on them. The boy also gave his former "family" something, a card that proved worthless financially. The members were actually planning on using the card for masturbating before Natsuno took it from them.

As he listened to the orders of his heightened senses, his mind kept replaying Shimizu's nightmares. He kept seeing Sotoba's residents standing over her like a jury, swaying from one verdict to another, all the while keeping the trial silent from him. He kept seeing her crying, pleading for something, if only to make the pain numb for a bit. He kept seeing her injuries she's inflicted onto herself, the apologies she's made, as if he were her warden.

He stopped for a moment.

First it was that girl, Yume, whose body was never recovered, whose memory vanished from whomever was even remotely close to her. Then it was the boy from Haru's school, then Yuki Saito, and finally, her father, all of which seemed to be attached to Kaori in some way, all of which under Toma's influence. Toma, who decided to show up at the last minute and attack Shimizu, who killed Asaka out of some sick, twisted desire to play pretend.

Haru and Kaori, huh?

Haru seemed to be on good terms with Kaori, who, along with he and Shimizu, survived the purge at Sotoba, and could tell him anything he asked for. Anything at all, from the peaceful village life she enjoyed before the shiki, the family she's had, the friends she cared for, to horrific events that happened on the mountainside.

He smelled that putrid blood once again.

He jerked himself away from his thoughts and looked up. The voices have stopped, and all suicidal activities have ceased altogether. There was nothing at all, aside from the deep rustling from underneath his foot. He shut off his senses, and searched every floor, counting the seconds from which he fell into silence.

There was something down there, and it was destroying itself. He could hear its savage thoughts bombarding his brain, its voice screaming and shouting and laughing its way to whatever madness awaited it. He could hear its body cracking with every movement, destroying itself with pleasurable turbulence.

Natsuno narrowed his eyes, and moved forward cautiously. He searched his brain relentlessly, all the while tracking the moving creature from around the building. The lights outside rummaged through the parking lots, which were driving crazily across the streets. The flashlights kept shining into the building, ignoring whatever danger may lie in facing the darkness. Natsuno turned, and caught the security guards talking with one another, trying to determine if they should check inside the building as well since there were no cameras, before, for some reason, deciding against it.

He stopped at an elevator. Again, he listened for the creature down below. Its moans rumbled across the building's frame, with a haunting obsession that kept taunting him, directly and indirectly. He could hear its claws scratching against something, a cage probably, dragging its nails from one end to the other. Its vicious, craven cries matched that of the now silent researchers, and it wrung itself pitifully, doing whatever it could to get someone's attention, craving for a past that could never be its.

He _knew_ that desperation.

Quietly, he stepped into the elevator and peered through the darkness. There was a card swipe right next to the buttons. He pulled out that worthless card and swiped it, watching as that red light turned green. He straightened, and regarded the machine calmly as the elevator descended.

The confusion pummeled his brain heavily, though in the end, it was replaced with curiosity, as his memories replayed Haru's lighthearted conversations over and over again. Whatever this thing was, Haru seems to have wanted nothing to do with it. So why didn't he just rip the card up then? Why would he just give it to the yakuza members, where anyone else could have picked it up?

The elevator came to a screeching halt. When the metal doors slid open, the cool air blasted Natsuno as he walked out, the pitch black welcoming him with perfect ease, his eyes observing the room carefully.

There was a butcher table at the center of the room, along with machines lined up on every inch of the wall, machines he's seen from the Bethlehem Hospital. Scalpels were delicately placed across a silver tray on the ground; there was a wheel chair off to the side, one with three neat spikes on the bottom and back, that welcomed its newest victims. Chains decorated the table's surroundings, along with black bloodstains which coated the table like a blanket. There were a multitude of cages hanging from the ceiling, all of which had organs hanging from the bars. Hearts, intestines, eyes, stomachs, anything that made a home in a normal, anatomical human was sitting right there, just waiting to be used by their masters.

His footsteps pierced the metal when he caught a cage with that a monster resting inside of it. He moved closer, as it licked the urine from the floors, trying to get the nourishment it needed to stay alive. His eyes widened.

Yume?

And at that moment, the black surrounded him.


	45. Chapter 45

Haru closed his textbook and stretched, his arms cracking at the sudden relief. He lazily stared up at the teacher, who was now hastily making her way out of the room, eyes down, covering her throat, doing whatever it took not to vomit in front of her already disrespectful students. He twisted his waist, catching the tiny details he would've missed otherwise; the ancient, outdated scratch marks which penetrated the wooden surface so easily, the mold growing in the corner, the cobwebs slowly becoming more and more visible. At that point, it was clear that this pointless class has obviously ended, with the former students more than eager to abandon the forgotten lecture.

He could make out the random conversations around him, the gossip that carelessly passed through his ears. Seems like Tanaka's name rarely popped up in the rumors these days, and Ken wasn't causing too much trouble hopefully. Funny; someone saw one of the teachers making out with the janitor. Another kept talking about false police reports, and how the Queen of Hearts was making another move, since Yuki's unfortunate fate was still on their minds. Along with the police shooting in Omotesando, it seems the topic was the only thing anyone could ever talk about, and frankly, Haru was tired of it.

He yawned, and wrenched himself from Natsuno's habit, staring down at the empty courtyards. Everything was dead, with an infinite layer of ice coating the sidewalk. Branches were burdened by the judgmental freeze, with a cold, ghostly wail which decorated the surroundings. Low, ominous clouds hung near toward the school, and, off in the distance, it looked like there was going to be another storm somewhere. Normally, around this time, he would probably be making his way to the cafe. Natsuno was probably waiting for him, despite the foreboding predictions.

There was nothing here that caught his interests.

He felt a small tap on his shoulder and went back to that trivial setting. He found one of his classmates standing there frighteningly, acting as if she'd seen whatever secrets Haru kept hidden. "U-um, Y-Yasuhiko…?"

He blinked. "What is it?"

The girl timidly raised her finger, and pointed to Tanaka, who was waiting at the door. She had that same, bright smile on her face, with a normal, relaxed light he wasted no time growing envious of. She had an oversized, wool, grey sweater over her blazer, and was clutching a small bento wrapped in a long, pink cloth. Her flowery pigtails were down today, replaced by a neat ponytail that echoed her maturity. She's gotten more confident. "Some weird freshman wants to-"

He automatically stood and sped past the girl, brushing aside her relieved breath. He made his way to Tanaka, and smiled urgently. Without warning, he pulled her away from the door and into some distant place in the hallway, where his classmates' curious eyes fell along their usually empty atmosphere.

When they were far enough away, Haru leaned against the wall and gave her a tiny grin. "Hey," he greeted, feigning surprise as he forced himself to look at her. " Whoa, are you that hungry? Morning classes haven't even ended yet, you know?"

"Kosei-sensei said I could leave early." she countered politely. "Besides, it looks like your teacher left too."

"Fair point, fair point." He scratched his head awkwardly. "Sorry I couldn't walk you home yesterday. A lot of things happened, and-"

"It's fine."

Haru narrowed his eyes, but continued with his friendly disposition. "Did Ken bother you again?"

"N-no." She took a deep breath, and clutched her bento tighter. "No," she repeated calmly, "he didn't."

"Then why're you so sad-looking?" he asked, as he raised his hand and flicked her nose. He laughed silently when she scrunched up her face. She looked like a pug, in some weird, demented way. "If you keep making that face, guys won't even look at you."

He caught the slightest glimpse of Tanaka-san's blush, though it vanished as fast as it appeared. The smallest slither of remorse lingered, constantly probing his mind while picking at his vulnerable conscious. Suspicion attacked him afterwards, and his whole moral ordeal was forgotten in an instant. "What's wrong?" he demanded in an authoritative tone, wasting no energy on his own facade.

Incredibly, Tanaka wasn't fazed. "Are you…really sure it's aliens?"

He fought back a confused glare, and dragged up his own memories. He returned to his act and nodded happily. "Yes, I'm sure." he answered thoughtfully.

"O-oh…"

"Why?" He leered toward her jokingly, putting his hands on his hips. Sarcastic playfulness oozed from his voice, as he twisted Tanaka's expression to fit his own needs. "You're not one of them, are you?"

She looked up. "Huh?"

"So you're _not_ gonna rat me out?"

"No, of course not." She stared at him contently, easing back into her own, unique world. Her shoulders relaxed, and in that moment, the tension had gone from her frame. "I was just wondering if I could meet your friend. You know… the mysterious fashion designer?"

"You liked her outfits that much?" he asked, not even bothering to conceal the delight in his voice.

"Y-yeah, since she won our school's competition and everything. I would love to get the chance to meet her."

"Sounds good. Miyuki loves meeting new people." He couldn't help but take note of the painful twitch on the corner of Tanaka's eye. He forced the vomit down and brushed his hair away from his eyes. "You tell anyone she's a girl yet?"

"What? No way! It's too funny." She forced out a harsh laugh, causing Haru to wince. "And besides, no one would believe me."

Haru pretended to think, much to Tanaka's frustration, before relenting jubilantly to her request. "You remember that fashion show we went to…before…you know-"

Tanaka blinked. "It's _that _building?"

He nodded. "Yep. That one. Anyways, I heard she's finished the internship, and she's working there right now. In fact," he held up one finger, "I heard she might just even get her own label, with the pace she's going."

"That's great!" she chirped pathetically. "You think she's gonna make it big?"

"Hopefully. Look, I didn't want to be a jerk or anything, but I've been meaning to introduce you to her. I was just too busy with the aliens and all that…"

"No, it's fine. Is there any time I can see her?"

"Well, she's got a really bad allergy to the sun," Haru explained, relaying that same lie smoothly. "She can only work at night, which can get a little creepy sometimes, right? Next Wednesday after seven should be fine I think. I'll let her know you're coming over. Just make sure you get home safely, alright?"

Tanaka's fears, apparently, were assuaged. The transition was so visible he slapped his palm on his heart, and groaned. He shut his eyes and slumped against the wall. "You really are cruel Tanaka-san…"

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean it that way! It's just…I was kind of shocked. You're not gonna meet her? I mean, she's-"

"Dangerous stuff I'm doing here Tanaka-san," Haru reminded her. "I don't want either of you getting involved. Alright?"

"Right." Tanaka leaned against the wall then, unraveling her bento. She opened the covers, revealing an assortment of meat that was meant for Kaori alone. Despite that, the girl shared the lunch with her companion, who faithfully partook in the feast. "You really have a lot of faith in Miyuki-san, don't you?"

He never answered.

He only paid attention to Toma, who waited for him in the upcoming darkness.

* * *

Megumi walked through the hallways with a large, orange envelop in her hand, as she surveyed the bleak walls left from right. She clutched the file tightly to her chest, observing the dim lights which guided the remaining fatigue-stricken designers, who were, as of this point, trying to keep their eyes open. She winced when she witnessed their colored pencils scribbling onto the desk, along with some light snoring that made her want to tremble. The pattern was entirely disorganized, and the way they just threw their works at her was irritating. She couldn't understand why they were even here to begin with; where was that "passion" she kept hearing about? Did she offend them so badly, a rookie becoming the leading fashionista in just two months? If their designs didn't such as much, then maybe they wouldn't be in that position in the first place.

More importantly, why was _she _carrying the designs down? Where were the assistants? Wasn't this thing supposed to be _their _job.

She saw those unconscious, half-dead bodies lying near the desks, and decided not to press the issue.

She strolled through the doorway, taking refuge in that big, lonely conference room residing at the edge of the balcony. She sighed as she set the papers down on the surface. Her pink strands fell toward her eyes. She swept them away before, sitting down and beginning to revise (destroy) the designs.

Denenchofu. That's what the other yakuza branches told her. More than likely Yuuki would be there, investigating that company, Fawn Industries.

She hadn't heard that name in a while.

Even without access to current police files, Megumi managed get a good hold of the missing persons profiles, people whom investigators believed dead, and were now archived on that long, depressing list of cold cases. She remembered Amber Fawn's face well, considering how it was always at the top of the pile, underneath what looked to be other children who shared her uncertain, cruel mystery.

All the victims were young, and beautiful, and human, and those three things were the only thing she and Yuuki could piece together. Anything else was just cause for debate.

Investigators wanted to think that some sick psycho was involved with the disappearances, though through Megumi's past profession, that theory was proven otherwise. And she's never told Yuuki this, but she found it incredibly strange, how Daiki's wanted list just seemed to target children all the time. Though their blood _was _exceptionally powerful, that reasoning alone wasn't enough to just target someone, aside from extreme thirst. From that ripper wannabe Miyazaki, to the cast away lover Ishikawa, to even the current culprits like Officer Saito, or his daughter Yuki, all were targeting what seemed to be innocent youth. Then there was Toma, who seemed more than content with his forced playmates.

That fool hasn't made any move these past few days.

She stopped then, analyzing whatever contents she had left in her mind. It's more than clear that Toma wasn't acting on his own. More than likely he was taking orders from someone else, but he decided to have a bit of fun on his own. It'd explain why he decided to take control of the boy from Haru's school, though it could also be a way to get their attention. However, during that time period Toma couldn't have known about Sotoba, or Megumi, or Yuuki, judging from the outright way he approached Kaori; he was probably still trying to figure out just who would be bold enough to burn down the Bethlehem Hospital, who would dare to challenge his partner's authority. She didn't smell anything from her former childhood friend, and from what Yuuki could sense, no one else was under Toma's control that night. It seemed like all the little monster was trying to do was make things worse for whoever he deemed worthy of his attention.

She narrowed her eyes, and remembered clearly how everyone reacted when the name 'Yume' was brought up. No one knew of her; her parents, her friends, the entire school…no one bothered with her existence, save the police, who kept track of her disappearance. But by now, that might've been deleted from the system too, so it's not like Megumi could just go back and keep everything in check. Presently, A majority of their networks came from the yakuza, and not even _that_ could compensate for the invaluable information lost.

She bit her lip, and distracted herself with the final products. She stood and neatly placed the designs in her hands. She looked around the room, then turned her heel and left, beginning her hourly midnight stroll back to the receptionist desk. It wasn't long before her thoughts went back to their previous doubts.

Asaka's dead, and from the work that Yuuki had done, seems he had a bit of a connection with higher officials, namely modern-day aristocrats and monarchies. The man used his gang of yakuza misfits to carve themselves a home in the criminal underground, from managing multiple illegal store chains in Shinjuku, to owning high-class real estate in Azabu. But for some reason, according to Haru, the man chose to stay in some rundown apartment, a home rampant with drugs and prostitution and alcohol.

A place that could very well avoid police detection.

What was the partner after anyways? What was the point in all of this? But more importantly, how deep were Asaka's connections in the yakuza? Was this all information she and Yuuki could use freely? Was Yuuki somehow keeping track of all of this, his notes buried somewhere in that pile?

Yuuki.

What was he doing now? What sort of scandals has he found out? Even if he hated her, it's not like him to just disappear. After all, that was _his _blood she smelled from the floor, and that was _his _work lying on the table. Since there was no way to contact him, it made the wait even more agonizing, considering how much was at stake.

Megumi carefully walked into the elevator trying to reassure herself to no end. Yuuki's hypnosis was stronger than hers, but that doesn't erase the fact Toma could still commandeer the situation. Against him, there was no guarantee that they would hold onto the yakuza forever; in fact, it might just be a matter of time before they lose that advantage too. They'd only have whatever circumstances they've gotten from before, and if this keeps up, they may need to cease from seeing Haru altogether.

Haru…he has ties with the yakuza, doesn't he?

By now, both he and Kaori should be close friends.

So close even, it wouldn't be hard to get information from her on Sotoba.

But that speculation alone wasn't right. Although Megumi had doubts on Kaori, Haru wouldn't be the type of person to do that; at _worst,_ he would probably use the information to help the girl get over her fears. Besides, they both saw him for themselves; he was the guy that'd go out of his way to do something for someone he loved, but he wouldn't do so at the cost of someone else's reality. No matter how much he hated them, the boy knew full well he couldn't just steal another's life. He wasn't like Asaka, or his mother, or the villagers of Sotoba, or any other scum that was better off not existing. He appreciated fashion when he saw it, not to mention how devoted he was in helping her get this far.

He was her friend.

There was no way. Absolutely no way. She shouldn't even be considering it a possibility!

So why were the doubts still there, dancing on the vulnerability of her mind?

She felt the elevator stop, and immediately, she straightened, removing any remaining tension from her face. Ms. Okada should still be here, right? The old lady volunteered for the nightshift, since she'd been suffering from insomnia lately. It was risky to leave her alone like that, but what else could Megumi do? Just last night she collapsed from fatigue, all the while falling down the stairs while carrying a bunch of heavy files. If the shiki hadn't been there the woman would've broken her neck.

She's just like Kaori, in that respect.

Megumi stepped out into the darkness. "I'm finished. Please give them to the rest of the team tomorrow morning."

The woman blinked, then looked up. "Is this all for Sapporo? This is a lot of work for just one little festival."

Megumi leaned against the countertop, and gave Ms. Okada a genuine smile. "The festival is one of Japan's most popular tourist attractions. It's a good way to advertise."

"World's got too much money," she muttered stubbornly. "By the way, Mr. Murakami wanted you to go to stop by in Denenchofu to pick up the mannequins."

What a convenient coincidence. "When?"

"Tonight."

She huffed. "They realize I have other work to do, right?"

"Mr. Murakami's orders. I can drive you there, if you-"

"It's fine," Megumi interrupted. But I just don't see why why don't they can't just hire someone. They're just creepy when they're…you know-"

Ms. Okada shrugged. "I've no idea. A girl like yourself really shouldn't even be out during this time."

"Right."


	46. Chapter 46

His disoriented senses came through the fold, the hazy darkness lingering beneath the confines of his vision. That old, stubborn brain of his kept replaying nonexistent memories which held no purpose, and fatigue had attached itself to him without any concern. The cool, hypnotic air relentlessly kept reminding him of small, insignificant thoughts, feelings that provoked him back into that empty silence. Slumber dredged through his icy system, tempting him once more with warm, discernible images of rest and home. Nightmares gave their seemingly trivial objections, while sweet illusions flooded his mind, from friends, to family, to a village sitting comfortably on the mountainside.

A village that burned down so very long ago.

_I've always hated you. _

Natsuno jolted awake.

The familiar voice echoed through his eardrums deliberately, pacing each painful note from second to second. The cold, rusty scent clawed at his skin as he grew more aware, with a metallic, piercing surface nestled uncomfortably throughout his abdomen. Though he could see through his tired-ridden eyes, the shadows surrounded him like a labyrinth; never once did it allow the jinrou to weave his way through this foreboding place. He slowly turned to his side, his numb joints groaning with effort, while his eyes adjusted to the damp cell.

Where was he?

A sharp pain suddenly erupted from his feet, so much so he bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming. His fingernails scratched the iron floors, while he instinctively endeavored pulling his legs away without success. The agony pressed down on him willfully, though the disturbance was of little consequence when he realized something heavy was clutching his wrists.

Rapidly, his pupils followed the lines of his pale skin, revealing chains which dug into his flesh easily. Tiny nails were driven into each cuff, wit every end end pompously drawing away more blood, more skin, more veins. The chain was wrapped around one of the bars, strangling the poor thing before being neatly put together by three intricate locks, a prospect he found neither encouraging nor heartwarming. On outwards, that chain meticulously molded with another cage next to his, then another, then another, until finally, the room was fenced in by iron and rust.

He looked down with his own crimson, domestic eyes. There was a large, metal rod that impaled the center of his feet, as well as the unlucky floors underneath it, while effortlessly looming threateningly over his toes. The sharp, crooked end reminded Natsuno of that unpleasant, painful death which he'd rather avoid, and though rust decorated every inch of it, he could still imagine the bountiful suffering that the weapon must've caused, no matter how old it was. Like the handcuffs, there were bits of flesh scattered around the makeshift stake, though a tiny circle of dried blood covered the vicinity of his leg. The ugly object glared at him haughtily, and with each move Natsuno made, it served to inflict more damage, never once giving him a moment's rest. After a few seconds of struggling and waiting, he froze, recalling the events that transpired before then.

Yume.

That's right; he saw it somewhere in a cage, locked up somewhere while screaming for attention. No, it didn't look human. Its eyes were missing, and, like Asaka, he could see its organs from its sickly blue, transparent skin. It had an eerie, ghoul like face that reminded Natsuno of Sotoba's victims, along with bloody, salty tears running down its face, tears that might not even remain for very long. It was crouching shamefully, huddled in that small corner, doing whatever it took to survive yet another hour in the hell it called home.

But that was Yume's blood he smelled; that was her scent, and that alone assured Natsuno that the girl existed, no matter how brief her life was. The girl who disappeared without a trace, the girl who no one remembered, the girl who was marked to become the next Baroness…was right there, before his eyes. However monstrous she was, Natsuno knew. _He knew. _

And she was very close by.

But bright lights which immediately blinded him interrupted his search, bombarding him with its spontaneous attack. He winced at the spotlight's intensity, and cursed silently under his breath as that hyperactive, stinging pain, once again, emerged from the soles of his feet. He writhed, though he forced his body not to move. A shadow lingered near him, along with a saccharine scent which reminded the shiki neither of Toma, or the Kirishikis, or anyone else, for that matter. He blinked away the excessive light, and forced himself to look up.

"L-look at you." was the first thing he heard.

That voice was breathy, endearing, genuine to the point he started shrinking away from it. It was a man's voice, a man who was standing very near the cage, and had on a grey business suit. He couldn't make out the sick, depraved expression on the man's face, even as he crouched down enthusiastically, wringing his fingers together while giggling contently with his latest capture. "Look at you," he repeated softly. "You're so beautiful."

Natsuno lifted his head, his fangs already clinging to the sides of his mouth. A low growl rose from his throat, when he collapsed back onto the floor. He couldn't move.

"I see," the man mused. "Well, I suppose with a body like that, it'd take a while for the drug to exit your system. But the effects are incredibly wondrous, wouldn't you agree?"

He petted the cage gently, rapping his nails along the edge. Natsuno could feel the man's eyes boring his face for a bit, before that strange, jolly hostility disappeared altogether. "I wonder where my other darling is. She was supposed to be here by now." He leaned in, pressing his lips against the bars. "There _are_ two of you, aren't there?"

Natsuno clenched his teeth, and looked away. Shimizu…? She was supposed to meet with him? If that was the case, then Natsuno had to get out of here now, the alarm rising from inside his chest, the adrenaline consuming whatever patience he had left. They had to get out of here. They had to go before anyone else could catch up with them. The chains. He had to get them off. He had to get out.

And before he knew it, his wrists started ripping away his skin, brushing aside the torment.

The man sighed. "It's been a while since I've seen an expression like that. Toma was right; it really is lovely."

He stopped then. Toma? This guy knew Toma?

The man clapped his hands gleefully, nodding excitedly over the fact that his new toy could understand a few phrases. "Ah, so you know him? Yes, Toma thinks your very pretty."

He grimaced at the compliment, but then trained his eyes around the confusing surrounding. Yume was here; she had to be. His sight followed her mundane scent, tracing the bloodstained floors for a bit until finally, he became fixated with one lone cage towards the center of the room.

A cage that was, along with the others, covered with a thick, black cloth.

He heard no heartbeat that would usually pulse through the still, rigid air. There was no blood flowing normally through its veins, unlike the torrents of liquid which passed by a person every so often. Its presence wasn't strong enough to be shiki or jinrou, nor was its vital signs evident enough to even be considered living.

And it was bleeding.

Yume was bleeding.

"Hey, vampire." the weird man continued, slipping his hand through the bars of the cage. His fingers quickly caressed Natsuno's clammy cheek, wiping away traces of his biting sweat. It wasn't long before he began poking the jinrou curiously, leaving jarring, bloody marks which healed every few seconds. The wounds were reopening every time. "I asked you a question, remember? I just want to find your little playmate, that's all. What? You can't answer me?"

The man dropped to his knees, and gave Natsuno a clear view of the his twisted expression. "I only want to meet her for a little. I won't harm her, I promise."

Blond, sandy hair, similar to Haru's, fell over his muddy brown eyes. Pale skin jubilantly emphasized his growing mental instability, though along with it, bruises and past wounds covered his cheeks and jawbone. From the corner of Natsuno's eyes, there were two, neat incisions made on the man's collarbone, and from it, Toma's scent diffused throughout the air. Though the blood in the man's system was minimal, it was enough to make Natsuno's nose recoil in disgust.

Yet it only took Natsuno a few moments to realize that he recognized this man.

His hopes faltered a tiny bit, when an idea came to him. He gripped the bars tightly with both hands, before shoving his face against them, the epiphany pushing him further and further toward the brink. "I'm not surprised. Of course you could smell her. I guess that's why you snuck in here, right? What a curious child you are." He stood, and promptly walked over to Yume's cage. "If you had just asked me, I would've shown you both. No need to sneak in."

He grabbed the edge of the cloth, then, with one fluid motion, unveiled the terrified thing in front of the captive audience.

"What'd you think?" Virgil Fawn went on, flourishing his arms with extravagant pride. "She's almost as pretty as you, wouldn't you say?" Just as he did before, his fingers moved erratically along the roof of the cage, forcing the girl to quiver in obedience. Her frightening smile kept trying to force its way down, while the creature moved away from the sound, the extra limbs slowly tearing apart from her frightened shivers. She kept groping the bars, searching in vain for some way out, though by that time, Natsuno shifted his gaze away.

"She's my greatest masterpiece." the pedophile continued, knowing full well the terrifyingly submissive attitude he managed to instill in her. "Not many people know about her. A shame, almost. You think so too, don't you?"

"Why?" he finally managed to croak.

Fawn turned back, the surprise adorning his face. "I see you've found your voice. That's good then, isn't it? I wonder what kind of stories you'll tell me," he whispered, "from those innocent lips of yours."

"What's the point?"

Again, the mood shifted, from that frightening calm to the same, chaotic attitude which grazed the two shadows once before. "The point?" Fawn repeated dumbly. "Isn't it obvious? Shouldn't you know me well enough by now?"

He regarded the man evenly. "So you're my stalker."

Fawn chuckled, planting himself in front of Natsuno "How cute. No, not just you. Your little sweetheart too, of course. Misery loves company after all." He sighed dreamily, tucking his hand underneath his chin. "I mean, I couldn't help it. I've been wanting to meet you both for a while now, ever since you hobbled away from that rundown village in the boondocks. The deaths you've seen, the destruction you witnessed…it was all so very attractive to me."

"If you wanted to see it that badly," Natsuno muttered weakly, "you could've just gone yourself. You didn't have to get everyone else involved."

Fawn's dark, mad eyes flickered down toward him. "You mean the syndicates? Wait, I know. Daiki. That's his name, wasn't it? My, you really are naive. Of course I can understand your willingness for your two species to cooperate. However, I never dreamed you'd fall for a ruse like that. Well, you and your sweetheart both."

Natsuno simply scowled. "How'd you know-?"

"What a disturbingly childlike face," Fawn observed. "I simply had a few of my men do some research about you two. Family registers, school records, death certificates; everything I'd ever need is right in my hands. You don't have a lot of history together, do you?"

"You were harvesting humans," he hissed angrily. "Why would you support them like that? There had to be some other way-"

Fawn shook his head. "You really don't get it, do you? It's not because I want to "support" anyone, aside from myself."

"Then why?" Natsuno demanded. "Why would you put everyone through that? Shiki or not, you don't just play around with them like that."

"Play? Yes, I suppose I was playing around." Fawn shrugged, as he pressed his hands against the cage, stroking the rusty bars with his nails. "You would do the same thing too, if you were bored."

Boredom?

He was doing all this…for the sake of _boredom?_

Natsuno clenched his fists, and ignored the pain that abruptly spread across his lower torso. "Stop jacking around-"

"Naturally. You know, something has always bothered me. About you, specifically, my dear vampire."

"That's not the issue here."

"Really?" Fawn squeezed his hand through the bars. His long fingers barely managed to reach the jinrou when Natsuno tried to jerk away. The tear within the bones sounded loudly from Natsuno's ears, and once again, he was immobilized by the pain, which allowed Fawn to grab hold of his hair. The man began stroking it, before making his way through the purple strands of hair. "Because from the way you've been acting, I don't find you heroic at all. You're a shiki, right? Shouldn't you act like a monster?"

"You're one to talk."

"Boy, there comes a time when that ignorance becomes incredibly tiresome." He gripped Natsuno's skull and dragged him toward the edge of the cage. He slammed the his skull on the bars, the blood seeping through his fingers. He fractured the boy's head little by little, with bits of bone splattering everywhere.

"But you're cute nonetheless, my precious little coward."

* * *

Megumi stopped, just a few feet away from Fawn Industries. She stood there emotionlessly, arms hanging limply to her side, with the evening frostbite attacking her already cold, decaying skin. She stared longingly at the company building, then, slowly but surely, her brimming, feral eyes appeared from those black, endless corneas. She gazed up at the tall, iron gates of the company building. She felt a bit intimidated but curiosity gradually replaced her apprehension. With one, confident stride, she began walking toward it.

This was the place that Natsuno was investigating. From what she heard, this was supposed to be a pharmaceutical branch, right? However, for some reason they're also making beauty products and manufacturing mannequins, whenever the time called for it. Mr. Murakami got his supply from this company apparently, and it was because of that convenience that Megumi came in the first place.

But along with that convenience, there was fear.

She froze.

Yuuki.

That was Yuuki's blood just now.


	47. Chapter 47

Kaori stood outside the clothing store, her sad, melancholic reflection gazing back at the streets depressingly. Her wide, naive eyes memorized every detail on the fabric of that plain, pink dress, though her blank face had no such idle luxury, practically staring at the air in front of it. Her hands were shoved in that new, white trench coat Mr. Yuuki had bought for her, along with a small, pink beanie that somehow tamed her wild hair. She was still in her school uniform, with black, knee-high socks that did little to help her against the cold. There were bright, yellow stickers all over her legs, a testament to the many "friends" she's made within the past couple days. Her head fit snuggly inside her scarf, and though the humidity bit her from every side, she kept it on, and paid no mind to it. The leash was maneuvering away from her fingers, so she grabbed the handle and yanked back the bored Love to her side, who was already beginning to wander off again. All the while various cliques stroll by, paying no mind to her seemingly strange obsession.

Behind her was a flurry of lonely blue lights, all lined up in their neat little rows and decorum, greeting the marveled tourists with dancing shadows and silhouettes. The progression never seemed to end, not even pausing to rest on the small hills which grazed the glistening horizon. The dark, celestial starlights from above sang their soft elegies, their voices tuned out by the ever growing wind. The skyscrapers served as a barrier, though even then the mundane world was still so very far from where Kaori was standing. Shapes were simply blurs, people blobs, while she continued on with her onlooking. The frosty breeze entangled itself within the smallest corners of darkness, bringing her closer and closer into the illusion which she dreamed of, the sleep she could easily succumb to, if not for the boy that constantly kept her sensible emotions tumultuous.

Ken's words still rang clearly from within her mind, and not even the slightest deterrents could hope to distract her. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see his resigned face, his defeated attitude taking full custody of her attention, just before he left her alone altogether. He never spoke with her again after that, never bothered to leave her gifts or stop by at her house; it was as if whatever happened between the two that day never existed. Sometimes he'd be in class, sleeping away the endless hours without difficulty, while other times he would either walking aimlessly around the campus, or in the library, callously flipping pages with his thumb. Though she never tried striking any sort of conversation with him, she couldn't help but feel nervous whenever he was around, knowing full well he would simply just brush her off whenever the opportunity came. He was conscious on avoiding her, but then again, he never caused her any trouble either.

And gradually, rather than Yasuhiko-san, who once filled her thoughts with his carefree mood and ludicrous notions, it was Ken this time, who kept his distance, withdrawing any unnecessary support and friendship, something that, surprisingly, made Kaori feel utterly isolated.

Yet in the end, Yasuhiko-san was the only one she had to thank. It was because of him she could finally meet this Miyuki person. She could, at least, confirm her suspicions about what happened that night, and see if that really was her former friend. Though by now Megumi might have moved somewhere else, it was worth a try. And who knows? Perhaps the okiagari might not have moved at all. Maybe she was just waiting for Kaori to come back to her, so she could erase any traces of Sotoba left in this world. Maybe she wanted a little snack to take with her before she left for another city; after all, Tokyo alone wasn't going to settle Megumi's ambitions. She always thought of herself too good for Kaori too, so she might not _want_ even kill her.

Steadily, she allowed Love to pull her away from the window, leading her toward the sad sapphires floating silently through the gardens. The pavement struck her heels, with a few slips of ice hidden beneath the rocks. She breathed in the evening air, her muscles relaxing at her now cool senses. The dog stopped to stare at a bulb for a bit, while rubbing his paws against the verdant grass. She smiled.

Yes, that may be a good outcome to bet on. If it really was Megumi, then Kaori should already know what to expect. Megumi won't kill her, because she can't bear to murder someone as pathetic as Kaori. If anything, she'd just leave Kaori alone, and then go off on her own without another thought. The only thing Megumi might even recall from her childhood friend was probably how annoying Kaori was, annoying and weak and childish and…

And what?

Slowly, Kaori reached up and rubbed her eyes, only to find a wet thing embedded on the edge of her lashes. She blinked, placing the hand in front of her sight, while the tugging continued.. Ah, that was Love. He wanted to go somewhere else, so she obeyed, all the while staring at the back of her hand, the tears cascading comfortably from her wrist, to her sleeve, the cruel frost inviting itself along.

Yes, Kaori did think the monster was her friend at one point, and yes; she, along with everyone else in the village, fell for her little act. Megumi was the one who killed Kaori's dad, who slaughtered so many villagers, who destroyed a home Kaori had no intention of leaving, all for her sick amusement. She was twisted, and cruel, and deserved everything she was going through that night. She even hurt Kaori, so much so that there was a time when the girl was afraid to step out of her own house, for fear of judgement for an unknown sin Kaori had yet to commit. She deserved every horrific thing that happened in this world, and Kaori would just sit back, laughing as if it were but a trial, in which the bad guy gets sentenced to death, without any other input from an already merciless jury. The scene was just so flawless and mesmerizing and chilling, that Kaori even giggled at the thought from time to time.

So why?

Why was she crying?

Tears ran profusely down her cheeks, her eyes fixated on the ground, as she carelessly went on, not suspecting a single thing of her own weaknesses. She hastily wiped them away, the smile becoming harder and harder to bear.

She lowered her face and bit back a sob, barely managing to keep up with Love's slow pace. What was it? What's wrong? Megumi got what she had coming to her back in Sotoba; she heard the villagers say so themselves. They ran her over with the tractors, then staked her, giving her the most violent, cruel death not even Kaori could have thought of. It was perfect. She could savor every painful sensation that went through Megumi's body, every hopeless song that came with the pathetic realization that she was never going to leave Sotoba. Even if that wasn't true, it was still a moment Kaori would cherish. It didn't matter if she was alive; as long as Megumi suffers then everything will be fine. If there was one thing Kaori learned from this unfair city, it was that people got what they asked for; no one was excluded from that.

And at last, she had to stop, allowing the leash to slip from her vulnerable, fragile grasp. Love stopped his exploration, and returned to his mistress, sniffing at the strange droplets drying on the ground, warm droplets that were already being turned to ice.

She wasn't scared. No, not at all. Nor was she angry, as she could have been. There was no determination to survive, as there had been once before, neither was there any penchant on protecting anyone around her. No happiness that her former friend was alive, no sadness, no pity, nothing.

She felt…rather empty.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and immediately, she spun around, only to find Ken standing there, seemingly surprised at the gesture himself.

He wore a black, fur jacket, something that appeared relatively normal for Kaori, as well as grey jeans, along with combat boots which clung to his legs desperately. Though he wore all black, for some reason, the girl could make out his outline. "T-Tanaka-"

She turned back to the isolated road ahead of her. Carefully, she bent down and took the leash. She started walking away, wiping away any traces of nothingness from her face when Ken grabbed her wrist. "L-look," he began. "I'm sorry for what happened-"

"It's fine," she answered quietly. She felt his eyes bore her back as the silence persisted. "What?" he asked, dumbfounded by how easily she gave into his request.

"You don't need to apologize," she explained. "In fact, I should be thanking you."

"No. I was out of line that day…I'm…if I caused you any trouble-"

"Like I said; you don't need to worry."

"Tanaka, you…you can always talk to me if um…if something's bothering you…"

"Please let go."

"I'm serious…" His voice faltered then, and though his grip never loosened, that familiar, shameful atmosphere began taking hold of the desperate confrontation. She felt him tugging her back, inch by inch. Finally, he tore his eyes away from her.

"You're shaking," he muttered softly, letting her wrist go in order to remove his own jacket.

Kaori looked back at her classmate, as he draped the heavy fabric around her shoulders, the oversized sleeves protecting her from the now harsh winter. Aside from the jacket, he wore only a thin, long-sleeved sweater. "Stop it."

He ignored her, and simply kept adjusting the jacket.

"_Stop it_."

"Just shut up for a minute," Ken whispered, tugging the collar over Kaori's mouth, before zipping up the entire thing. His hand reached over and shoved the hood in her face, the fabric scratching her now red nose. He leaned back, satisfied with his work, though his thumb lingered near her left eye. "See? Warm."

She remained where she was, unable to move. Love's delicate paws kept searching her knee, his head nudging her leg, rendering her useless in terms of the dog's balance. Meanwhile, the growing heat inside her body comfortably nestled along the reaches of her flesh, seemingly undoing whatever damage the inconspicuous breeze had caused. She balled her fists. "You're freezing."

"Consider that an apology."

"What?"

Ken stared down at her briefly, then turned away, his face flushed. "_I'll _be fine. _You _on the other hand are going to freeze to death if you keep that attitude up."

She started to respond. Her lips parted, her mind coming up with a few choice words of her own, and yet no sound came out. She tried again, only for the bile to rise in her throat. What's happening? Why couldn't she say anything?

Ken sighed frustratedly, as he wiped away more of those unknown feelings away. "You really shouldn't do that," he said quietly. "The waterworks aren't good for your health, especially during this time of year. And besides, you don't want that guy to see you like this, right?"

"Why?" she asked numbly.

Ken blinked, then leaned closer. "What?"

"What're you doing here?"

"What? Do I need a reason to be here?"

Kaori never replied, but she kept steady gaze straight ahead of her, losing whatever spark she had left to deal with the heated argument.

He straightened and bit his lip, embarrassed by his sudden outburst. "I live around the corner," he answered calmly. "I was gonna hang out with some guys from school, but since they all bailed…"

"Why'd you give your jacket to me?"

"You were cold."

"Was that all?"

He thought for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah. You were cold, and I wanted to help."

"Wanted?"

"Gotta problem with that?"

"Actually…I do."

His eye twitched annoyingly. He grabbed both ends of Kaori's scarf and dragged her toward him, his warm breath glazing over her steadily. "Yeah. I _wanted _to help. So what?"

Kaori blinked, not quite understanding whatever emotion lay behind those words. "You came, because you wanted to help." she repeated lamely. "But your cold now."

"And like I said, _don't worry about it." _

After putting up with Love's constant whimpering, Ken stepped back and stared at the dog, who was now only noticing the boy there. She felt Love push away from her slightly, his paws now on Ken's knee, as his nose busily sniffed the new stranger. He grabbed her fingers, entwined them with his, and led her down the cold way.

Confusion etched onto her face. "Wait-"

"You look stupid, just standing here all by yourself," he murmured. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

* * *

Megumi wandered through the empty corridors, following the scent of blood aimlessly, her footsteps going from each corner. Her eyes kept scanning the darkness for abnormal shadows, missing nightmares in which they came to take form. Her head swayed right and left, her nose intoxicated with the tempting and poisonous aroma. Her hand traced the stray lines on the walls, a reminder of whatever troubles the building had, something that neither concerned nor interested her. She tilted her ears a bit, the echoes drowning away every unique thought she had, the voices pouring in bit by bit.

Down below.

Carefully, she started away from the upper floors, her fingertips tracing the railing as she began making her way downstairs. None of the elevators were working, and it seemed that someone shut off the power. There were no lights, no security alarms, nothing at all, aside from the occasional beeps the front desk phone received, and even then that wasn't enough to alleviate Megumi's anxiety. To be perfectly honest, the whole thing was like a scene out of some cliche horror movie.

She could taste Yuuki's blood on her tongue, the very feel of it enough to make her sensible to the nonexistent, attractive trail which surrounded the middle of the building. Along with that scent, there was another one, and yet another still; two incoherent textures she couldn't bring herself to remember, much less identify. The smells kept mixing with Yuuki's own scent, and when she arched her back, savoring the tiny portion of what the jinrou's blood made up, her eyes narrowed.

Toma.

Her pupils flickered toward the floor, her senses concentrating on whatever region vibrated continuously in the abandoned building. Her head turned from side to side, before finally, she began walking down the long stairwell, her heels colliding with the hard steps.

The moon painstakingly glazed over her moving corpse readily, falling from her lifeless, cool eyes while white carelessly illuminated the dark skies above. Winter's little frost splayed itself along the glass, descending from water to glass with each step Megumi took, brining those reckless patterns into full view, beautiful yet unpredictable at the same time, unstable in the most subtle of ways. The tiny ends gave rise to the swirling ominous pathways that gradually grew more and more erratic as the seconds passed, her gleaming irises following that dreamlike, sharp brilliance. And then she stopped.

Why would Yuuki come here alone? If it was that urgent, he would've still had no problem telling her. The predicament involved the both of them after all, and since they depended on the yakuza for information, he wouldn't have hesitated telling her. Even if it involved Kaori, or Mr. Yuuki, or even Haru, she had a right to know. And besides which, they trusted each other enough with the situation, if not every detail of their lives.

So what was it? What was so important that Yuuki had to come here on his own?

Her leg started moving again, when she heard a slight groan from above. She paused, turning her eyes upwards and scanning the shadows for any signs. Slow, deliberate breathing reached her ears, along with an inhuman pulse which carried thick, vile blood within its veins. She gritted her teeth, and started walking up the stairwell once again, then racing across the balcony. That was Yuuki's scent just now, wasn't it?

She twisted her body, her gaze scanning every inch of the upper floors. The moans became louder and more prominent, the shifting gaining momentum as Megumi spun around, covering her nose with her hand. What's going on? That scent is everywhere, spreading even the most subtle of senses around her vicinity; she couldn't smell Yuuki anymore.

And then she saw it.

It was crouching in a corner, shivering in the frozen building. It was completely naked, covering itself with nothing but its bleeding arms. Like Murakami, its skin was light blue, and yet, more transparent, so much so the shiki could see the dark red organs which filled its body, however few they were. Black veins scattered from its heart, reaching up to its black eye sockets, before nestling beneath the jaws. There were no bones in this creature, nothing except for wires and steel iron that replaced its skeleton. Gears for tendons, and empty holes for a face, the limbs weren't very well attached, and though it attempted to stand, it could do no such thing. Overgrown fangs protruded its mouth, piercing its bluish gums as it attempted to snarl at Megumi.

And before she knew it, she felt its claws digging into her abdomen.

She yelped painfully, the force shoving her back over the railing. Her hands groped the air blindly, her nails digging into her palms frighteningly as she landed back on the stairwell, eyes wide. A loud crack resonated through the air, her limps twitching agonizingly on the ground, while she forced herself to move somewhere, anywhere. Blood slipped away from her mouth quite easily, the pressure engulfing her insides greedily.

The last thing she saw was that same creature pursuing her from above.


	48. Chapter 48

From that hidden moonlight, the shiki watched from afar, happily swinging his legs from the edge of the tree's silhouette. Verdant leaves covered his pale, shimmering face, the windswept breeze painted underneath the dark, overbearing glares. Celestial skies from above reflected below the tainted scene to which he was watching, and within the hours, he started counting down silently. His hands gripped the branches tightly, his pupils following that delicious aroma from around the corrupted atmosphere. It wasn't long before he gave into that soulless temptation, jumping down from the branch with ease and walking toward the iron gates with a twisted smile on his face.

Toma looked ahead at the now ruined, heathen like purgatory, and then sighed. "What? I wanna see how this ends. It's not like I've got anything better to do. No, I don't think that's a good idea; rain's probably washed the whole thing away. Well, if you're that curious, then come down here! Stop wasting your time in that place; just you being there freaks me out. It's not elitism; it's common sense."

He huffed, shifting his gaze from the building and toward the boring, empty space, an undesirable alternative to the horror. "I've no intention of getting in your way. No, I'm doing that. You're scary when you're mad." He spun away, and went back into the shadows, intellectual curiosity brimming from the holes of his black, endless eyes. "I don't know. Virgil's never tried it, and as far as I'm concerned, no one's ever tested that theory. Well, if _you _somehow manage to do it, then I guess it's no surprise. I'm not going back there. You can't make me…I just don't want to. Is that a problem?"

Toma fell silent again, that smile now forgotten, replaced by a frown which kept up its envious appearance. He crossed his arms and leaned against the tree trunk, irritation seeping into his features deliberately. Eventually, his naive, childish image was shattered, scowling at his new master's naiveté. "Don't forget that I'm the one who showed you. If you wanna play the hero, fine. I won't object. However, what you wanna do and what I wanna do are two completely different issues. The only reason I dumped him was because I thought you'd be more entertaining."

The quiet pursued again, only to disappear within seconds with a harsh laugh. "You really think you can do that? Listen; I've known the Kirishikis for a long time, and not even they could pull that kind of stunt off. And besides, I don't think your friends would like that; blood tastes better when it's warm." He whistled. "What, you're a warden now? My, what ambitions you have. What's next? Rid the world of war and poverty? Kill the monsters? Burn the witches? Stuff every boogeyman in a box and bury them with those bittersweet childhood memories? Never thought of it that way, did you?"

He cocked his head. "What odd tastes you have. Shiragiku, huh? I've never seen those flowers before. Relax, they're not dying. So I'm an errand boy now? Can't I just see this first? No? That's your final answer?"

After another pointless argument, Toma moaned miserably, and stared back at the building. "You owe me, you know that? Can't believe I have to go back to that creepy place again…Hey, I told you! No body! Remember? Fine, fine, I'll leave. You really are pushy sometimes, you know that?"

A small smile broke out from his face, and once again, Toma resumed that amiable atmosphere that was thought to have been dashed away ever so shamefully. "Oh, you wanna watch too? Well I guess, but I doubt there's anything worth mentioning. You've still got the other copy, right? Of course I'm outside; I'm not gonna take any chances with Mommy dearest. Okay, okay, I was just joking."

He turned back and began walking on the cold pavement, paying attention not to the snow, or ice, or even to the harsh dirge endeavoring to push him away, but rather, to the life that was about to be dashed away. "What a ripoff. So I have to stay in that creepy-ass village again, while you get to have all the fun. How cute. No, I'd rather not say goodbye. The man's lost his mind, and I'm not in the mood to deal with something like that. Argh, no more questions! You're getting annoying!

"How the hell am I supposed to know that? Look, if it's that important to you, why not just ask her yourself? It's not like she's hiding anything from you…unless, of course, you plan on returning their kindness."

After another moment, Toma chuckled jubilantly, his eyes returning to the building, before abandoning it altogether. "No? What a shame."

* * *

There he was again, in that same room, standing before the jury with both hands bound, nothing more than an empty corpse ready to be sealed away by whatever judgement was bestowed upon him. His hair clung to his skin, the thick, cold sweat searing their trails through his flesh. Dry, bloody trails fell from his eyes, unwilling and unable to remove cleanse the crimson evidence away from the nightmare at hand. His pulse pounded against his ears, though in the very background of ambient noise, he could make out some lachrymose sorrow bending through the maze of shadows. Ice filled his veins while he stood there, carefully looking away from the human judge. The charges were being read.

Murder.

The bodies suddenly appeared before his eyes, their frozen, blueish bodies staring up at him with petrified expressions grazing their faces so accurately. The whites completely overtook their cool, lifeless eyes, with tiny, black veins branching out from underneath their lashes. Human and shiki adorned the ground; some were staked, others were burned, and yet still, some are dismembered, a testament to the consequence of his ignorant arrogance. Trails of ash were sprinkled over the floors, the tiny black specks slowly swirling around detached limbs and organs. For some reason or another, crimson faded with darkness, and in that frozen, dreamlike state, he could perceive their gleeful smiles. And though they were all dead, mouths sewn shut, light faded from black and white eyes, he could hear their mockery. He could hear them taunting him, insulting him, making fun of every slip of emotion that was revealed upon his face.

Arson.

In that same, stroke of time, he felt heat stretch across his skin. The fiery embers enveloped him, their burning tongues stinging his flesh, while the demonic choruses continued singing their ebonic praises, all of which were draped in smoke and hopelessness. He heard screams, some he knew, others he didn't. Everything he knew was reduced to trash, dirt that was to be forgotten among the fold of traditions. The flames continued to envelop the scene, the funeral pyres near Eden beginning to shape, in the form of a village once known as Sotobamura. Though he dared not loo up, he already knew what he was seeing, what the judges were seeing.

Torture.

He heard the testimonies being relayed against him, their hatred stemming from whatever lingering love that had left, only to be torn apart by a morbid grudge. The madness danced inside him, the ice changing to a slowly, burning rage, as, one by one, they all came, hands folded, eyes downcast, telling their version of the Purge. Their words stabbed his heart repeatedly, making him bleed from the inside out, as more and more of that despairing emotion came to reveal itself, however unfamiliar it was on the criminal's face. He recognized them all, and though he managed to block out most of them, there were still yet a few he couldn't bring himself to ignore. At that point, the accusations began to build up, slowly but surely eating away whatever was left in his mind.

His father, for the loss of his sanity.

His friends, for simply giving up that one fateful summer.

The villagers, for burning away their home, and engulfing their beloved traditions in a sea of flame.

The Tanaka siblings, for destroying their once happy dream, and sending them off to an even stranger nightmare.

And finally, Shimizu.

She was probably the only one he was willing to look at.

He could feel her frosty rosette eyes analyzing him, his thoughts and actions, his mercy and sins, whatever cruelty he displayed in the past and present. Pink strands blew with an elegant, graceless ease, dancing toward her bloody dress, with a Victorian gown which revealed neither her heartbeat, nor her warm body. A black choker embraced her throat tightly, with a deep, crimson bead toward the middle of her chin. Hanging from that bead was a small, silver rose, a design he saw from when they were still apart. She wasn't dead, for the veins underneath that thin, fragile layer of skin kept radiating with a warm, smooth liquid he was already enticed by.

He made no statement toward her, made no move, voiced no opinion; he kept his face blank, and yet she giggled. Dark tendrils began enveloping in that trial, with that twisted confusion displayed in full view for everyone to see.

Those tiny, eerie spurts of laughter became howls of screaming pain, a screech every corpse and every judge flinched from. She wasn't crying, like she had been, nor was she clawing away at her body, inflicting whatever harm she could to stop the penalty of living. She pulled at her hair, dragging herself this way and that, attempting to find a way to escape this suffocating nightmare, the pressure destroying every breath which brought new air to her decaying body. She gasped. She cried. She plead.

And then she stopped.

Slowly, she turned to him, smiling sadly through her tears.

"I've always hated you."

His eyes widened a bit, the very truthful lie falling apart before his very gaze. The shackles started becoming heavier, as the piercing sounds resonated throughout his heart's chambers. She simple cocked her head, refusing to brush away the tears which so deeply reflected everyone's pain.

"How could you?" she whispered softly.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"You, who wanted to die so badly. You, who felt so betrayed when you realized he was turned." She hung her head low, and suddenly, the jeering grew quiet, replaced by a trembling hesitation that could never hope to keep up with the vastly vanishing sanity. "You, who ran in to the arms of Death, like a coward waiting to be forgiven. What of me? What of my parents, and the shiki, and all the other humans who have died? Will you abide us to our fates?"

He clenched his fists, and took a threatening step forth. What was she talking about? She was responsible for the destruction too, wasn't she? Why was she there, with the jury? He started to protest, only to be stopped by the bile rising from the back of his throat. And from then, she continued, her voice becoming more distorted with each second.

"You just abandoned us. You only thought about your own inflated self-worth. Were you scared? Why? Why only you? Why were you the only one spared?!

"You're just a damn coward! You only ever thought about saving yourself from judgement! It was fine if _you _were forgiven, but what of the rest of us?! You just left us there, human and shiki! You just left us there to burn!"

And finally, he broke the silence. "You've got no right-!"

"Just shut up."

And from those dark, beckoning shadows, Tooru emerged from the darkness, seemingly unscathed from whatever sentence he'd been given.

Slowly, he came forward, and placed himself behind Shimizu with, one arm snaked around her waist. His wrists were torn apart, the skin melting away so readily, revealing a bit of bone mixed in with veins and blood. There were rope burns around his neck, with a noose hanging so freely from his throat and his sullied rags did little good to hide the grotesque wounds on his abdomen and legs. Chains clung to the soles of his heel, ripping away whatever was left to guard his feet, stains of black diffusing from that very area. He had a tiny smile on his face, his blond hair covering his eyes helplessly.

"Just shut up," he repeated.

He blinked. "Tooru-" "

What the hell do you know? You've always played the cold, calculating hero. You've never given a damn about the people you hurt, and the only time you ever actually cared was when you thought it'd make you look good. Who were you trying to impress, by the way? Those big city guys? The shiki? The villagers?"

"You've got it all wrong!" he shouted. "I did whatever I thought was-"

"Stop making excuses!" Shimizu screamed. "How can you just stand there and act like it's nothing?! Everyone's dead! They're all died, trying to save each other from their own sins…and you're just standing there like it's nothing!"

No, that's not right.

It…it just _wasn't._

"Did you hate the village so much you had to burn it down?! What about your mom and dad?! They loved it there, right?!"

"Didn't you want to leave, just as much as I did?!"

He felt a hand around his shoulder, with an icy breath running down the back of his spine. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Tooru.

"Hey Natsuno. Wouldn't be better for everyone if you just dropped dead?"

* * *

Natsuno woke up.

He felt a warm pulse purging the doubts left in his surroundings. That same, sweet scent kept on caressing his skin, his emotions shaking with dark desire. A piercing burning shattered his feet, and his hands were numb, not waking to another day in that nightmare. Something sticky was coated on his skin, and his clothes felt heavy, wet.

As the darkness cleared, slowly, he looked off to the side, and caught Shimizu there, lying on her stomach.

She was bleeding.

He looked down, and saw Yume lying underneath him, his hand ripping tearing away the pieces of her heart.


	49. Chapter 49

Megumi lay there, her pupils refusing to move as every muscle in her body revamped, endeavoring to break away from her unmovable state. The metal floor's piercing touch stabbed her muscles, her limbs lying frozen in the iron frost. She clenched her teeth, and attempted to stand up, only to cry out in pain, with a burning sensation erupting from her spine. Her nails scratched the ground, orchestrating a loud hollow screech throughout the room. She bit her tongue, inflicting whatever pain she could to keep herself from screaming. Shadows, black and red, dotted her vision, her once wild light now fading from her pupil.

Her eyes widened, the chaos beginning to pick up again, as she dared look around, however long her body howled.

She remembered teeth chewing her up, dragging her away from the floors. She remembered being dragged somewhere, down a deep, dark hole it managed to make with its claws. She remembered a strange scent coming off of it, a smell that kept bombarding her with unpleasant memories. Where was it? Where was that thing?

"Shimizu," a lonely voice called.

She jolted, twisting her head so rapidly she heard a slight crack from under her neck. Confusion adorned her face, her body tensing as the familiar presence drew nearer to her. Footsteps approached her softly, with a calm, eerie quiet that delved into the decadent atmosphere, and immediately, she relaxed.

She couldn't look up; she knew she couldn't, yet from the corner of her eyes, she saw blood decorating the soles of his feet, his toes enamored with the bone and flesh. She could feel his foreboding shadow standing over her, his lifeless eyes scanning her body while cataloguing her injuries. She couldn't read his thoughts, couldn't indulge herself with whatever thoughts his motives might carry. And finally, she relents to her doubts. "Yuuki," she barely managed. "…What-?"

She stopped when his his gaze fell somewhere else, his analytical glare keeping both he and Megumi away from whatever else was lurking in the darkness. Every instinct shouted for her to keep quiet, as she lay there, helpless and vulnerably, her disposition practically begging for whatever monster that resided from beyond the veil to come and eat her alive. Perhaps it was because of the paranoia, or the adrenaline that was injected forcefully through her nervous system, or even the fact that the creature that dragged her here might still be there, patiently waiting for them to bleed out their wounds before collapsing. And it was the first time she realized how young she was, how inexperienced she was, with all the horrors both Life and Death had yet to show her.

To both she, and Yuuki.

She bit her lip, and was about to say something more, when she saw him crouch down. His warm hands carefully laid themselves on her shoulders, his fingers cautiously moving adjusting her perception. She found herself staring at the far off cages near the side, hidden from underneath the hanging chains and needles.

Silver cruelly gleamed its emotionless heart toward her, depicting a cold, pathetic little girl under the care of an equally pathetic little boy. Her once perfectly neat hair was now splayed everywhere, her bangs soaked in black and red, all the while matching the crimson burgundy to which she laid in. Her clothes were torn apart, and though her wounds were still healing, the ugly scars were gruesome, laid out for the world to see. Bruises were scattered across her face, and her arms and legs that were all facing the wrong way. When she squinted, she caught sight of her halfway decapitated neck.

Yuuki, meanwhile, managed to get away from the terrifying appearance. A few scratches enamored his upper lip, and even when he was still bleeding he seemed fine, never once wavering under anemia's pressure. His amethyst bangs kept his eyes covered, and while she heard chains collapsing to the ground, he was alright.

She watched as, somehow, the skin slowly began stitching itself back to the neck. She could feel the veins reconnecting with one another, the nerves forcing any unnecessary hurt back into her system. Her arms were unwinding, twisting themselves to the sound of their own pace, callously reforming the joints and shoving the bones back into place. She grimaced, and, once again, fought down a scream.

Megumi felt his eyes examine her, and finally he spoke. "It's nothing. There was nothing here, as it turns out."

"Yuuki-"

"Why'd you come?" he suddenly asked, slipping his fingers under her chin, holding her neck steady while she recovered. Her throat kept squirming, trying to worm its way back in place. She bit her lip, the irritation dying down bit by bit.

"Mannequins," she croaked.

"Did your boss send you?"

"Y-yeah," she whispered, the wounds closing from within her mouth. "I…I was worried…"

"Worried?" he pressed dully.

She blinked. "…You disappeared. I…I thought-"

"You shouldn't worry about something like that. Turn this way; you'll reopen the wound." He tilted her head slightly, allowing more air to seep into the now fading scars. She shivered from his cold, unearthly touch. When she felt her blood beginning to circulate again, and that familiar flush of heat don her face, she attempted to turn back. That same pain stabbed her jugular for doing so.

"Stop that. You'll make it worse."

"You're lying."

"What?"

"You're lying," she moaned softly, her voice regaining its normal composure. "Yuuki, what happened?"

There was a very brief pause then. She could feel his body stiffen at the very mention of it, and yet, at the same time, he relaxed. And, rather than address her curiosity, he simply took note of the fact that it'd be morning soon.

* * *

Haru peered through that abyss, his eyes taking in the destruction he witnessed just hours before. Torn off chains lay in the distance, covered by the same, ruined cages that now adorned the floors. Needles were swept away with the rubble, along with the scalpels and syringes filled with a now broken drug. Bottles of morphine were scattered everywhere, shattered underneath Yume's weight. Ruptured organs were callously hanging from the air, a testament of the experiments having gone awry. Papers sheltering tiny, amateurish doodles flew throughout the basement, some of which carrying small, intricate scribbles, all of which housing the insignificant sins that were so meticulously illustrated within each pencil stroke. The neat, little array of cages were demolished, the new arrangement a maze that reflected every turn of that cruel, vain basement.

The sound of his footsteps bounced off from one wall to another, then proceeded transcending to the surface, before resonating through the air above. His fingers toyed with a glass shard, balancing the tiny thing from one area to the next with the slightest move. Even from a distance he could make out the tiny, black hearts writhing in pain, pumping desperately the blood that had abandoned them miserably. As he stepped closer, the beating slowly began dying out, until at last, the things ceased working altogether.

Haru regarded the scene for quite some time, an empty gaze overtaking whatever fondness he had left for the facility. He held the shard in front of his face, and began peering through the object.

Nothing had changed.

He tossed the shard away, then climbed down the chasm, as he listened to the blubbering, childlike squeals echoing throughout the facility. He carefully placed the handgun in his left hand, then traced the wall with his right, the darkness clearing away steadily from his vision. A slight frown tugged his lips, though of course, he wasn't particularly bothered by the devastation; no, something else was pursuing his attention for the moment. He moved away from the debris, taking in the bloody trail leading away from the oversized hole. Barefoot.

They made it out.

He stopped in the middle of that hole, and gazed at the once prominent torture chamber, his sight fixated on one particular corner. There was an iron rod in that cage, with pieces of skin stuck to the rust. The chains were torn apart, with the nails hiding cowardly behind those elongated ropes. Practically half the bars were broken, and though there were left remnants of flesh and blood all over the edges, the attack was a relatively clean-cut one.

One of those bars even managed to find their way to Yume, impaling her and forcing her body upward. The gore that spewed from her chest found their way to the black, but a few unfortunate droplets still had to suffer from the growing light behind Haru. The lungs were ripped away from the chest, the ribcage now exposed to the cruel elements. When he peered closer, he could see the crack in her skull which the shiki so mercilessly made, and from that, he could make out the brain, which was drowning in fluid and blood, weeping away the grey and white matter that once comforted it. Claw marks marred the lobes, something Haru found almost iconic. He looked back up at Yume's chest, and noticed the heart who, just like its other counterparts, had died. Tiny bits replaced the once proud organ, and though it was a bit hard to see, Haru could tell apart the two chambers.

Well, they were always a bit poetic.

His head tilted slightly to the increasing sobs, which were now becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. In a way, the cries reminded him of a toddler, who couldn't even function without their parents to watch over them. Prone to imagination and dreams, vulnerable to the "evils" the world had to offer, as well as the "beauty" in which that child cherished so very happily. What would happen if that fragile illusion was taken and shattered to a million tiny pieces? What would that do to said child, if they witnessed every cruel moment of it? Would they be traumatized? Happy? Sad? Angry? Shocked? What emotion would first pop up into that face of theirs?

He walked toward the sounds, his calm demeanor focusing itself on the object of his subtle rage. He turned, scanning through the disorganized maze, when he saw a familiar shadow trembling in excitement.

The figure had a nail in its hand, and was scratching something on the metal surface. After a few minutes, two smiley faces were staring back at it, almost demanding that it give them its entire devotion. Both of those faces had long lines running down their faces, with big, vibrant eyes denoting an unrecognizable feeling, lost along the nightmares which time preciously kept. It kept etching into those faces lips, then earrings, then small, tiny flowers which took the form of sakura.

It was giggling maniacally, conversing with them in its own, unique language. There was blood running down its forehead, though the injury wasn't serious. Its business suite was torn apart, no longer innocent in its reputation or emotions, and through the cloth Haru saw the tiny scratches and bruises, some of which were still bleeding. Some of that blood on its torso wasn't theirs, the foreign liquid seeping into the small openings so easily. Somehow, miraculously the monster managed to escape that destruction in one piece, even when that wasn't the ideal result from this little trial.

Haru stopped in front of it. "Mr. Fawn," he called.

It paid no heed.

"Mr. Fawn." he said again, a hard tone embedded within his voice.

Again, there was no reaction. It simply traced the immature scratches along the faces, dreamily looking at their shallow eyes, all the while blocking out whatever nuisances there were between it and the outside world. Haru walked closer; still, it never noticed him.

He straightened, and gave the fallen creature a sad smile. "So that's it then? That's all that's left of you?"

It started giggling again, as it stroked the smiley face lovingly, its thumb caressing the surface of the cage. A brief flash of desperation crossed its face, frowning at the face for not answering it, and yet, only after a few seconds, its bright smile instantly reappeared.

Haru stepped closer and crouched down. He stared at the crudely drawn faces. "You know," he began, "it doesn't matter how much you want it; they'll never come back. I'm shocked though. I didn't think that was all it took to break you."

And finally, it turned.

A blank stare grazed its dull, motionless eyes. It cocked its head, with that smile on its face, its grin revealing whatever was left of it's mental state. Haru scoffed then, tucking his hands under his chin. "But I guess it was pretty predictable. Under those circumstances anyone would've snapped. Still, I can't wrap my head around your motives, even when you've been that open about them. Did they remind you that much of Amber?"

It started clapping its hands jubilantly, bouncing up and down at the imaginary conversation in its head. Haru stole a glance at the faces once again, a twinge of sorrow radiating from his eyes before replacing it with cool indifference. "I never pictured you to be as compassionate as that. Never even crossed my mind."

When it began humming conspicuously to itself, Haru continued, knowing full well it couldn't understand. Haru stood, and examined the black handgun, while fumbling his pocket for the remaining bullets. "You were always behaving like that for your family. When something bad would happen, you would always treat it like a game, and play the hero of the story. My guess is you wanted to look good in front of them, even though they knew how much of an idiot you were."

He fished out one single bullet and scrutinized it. "When you found out your daughter was sick, Toma said you'd spend time with her, playing out your little stories with a passion. Her childhood was robbed because of that disease, but rather than just sitting by and watching her rot, you tried living out her childhood for her. You kept bringing her all sorts of things, talking to her about the outside world. You kept saying how fun it was going to be when she got better, how you were going to give her everything she ever wanted.

"And around that time, you started getting tired of the business world. You hated the competition and the corruption, and how everyone was just out for themselves. You already had more than enough money saved up, for both you and your family, so you thought about taking an early retirement. In your mind, it was going to be a happy ending, the ending that the books and movies keep regurgitating. You must've felt incredibly relieved after that, you old fool."

Haru glared down at it, a vivacious, lively expression meeting a withered, empty one. "But your daughter got worst, didn't she? Her medical bills were piling up, and the doctors were purposefully messing up her operations. They were asking for more and more money just to keep your daughter in the ICU; they were threatening her safety, and that's why you bought the pharmaceutical company. You subjected your daughter to that kind of treatment, simply because you thought you could find a cure."

Again, it clapped its hands, and Haru grimaced. "You invested almost all of your funds for her. You did everything you could to try and keep her alive, even with all the damage the doctors did. After all, that fairytale ending was your goal, right?

"The researchers found something odd in her cells though, something that went beyond even genetic illnesses and malpractice. They couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of that disease, since the only place a phenomena like that could even happen was in the horror movies. A lot of the scientists got so scared of even touching your daughter they abandoned the project altogether. You and your wife were desperate, so you somehow managed to convince those scientists to return and volunteered to be a lab rat, if only to study the amino acids in your own blood. You wanted to see if that would, at the very least, contribute to anything. Unfortunately, your wife did the same thing. That didn't work, and you ended up losing both your wife and daughter. You were left with nothing."

Haru's eyes softened, the gun to his side. "But you still had that fairytale end in your mind. Your family was your entire world, and when they died, the only way you could cope was by playing out those stories you used to tell them. You kept treating everything like it was '"fun", and as a result, you distanced yourself from the real world. You enveloped yourself in your stupid fantasy world just because your family loved it."

It started laughing, squirming in its place as it kept observing Haru. Its childlike gaze dropped to his gun, and it leaned forward, taken in by the strange object. "You made Toma play along with your lie because you couldn't handle their deaths. You loved them too much to accept they were gone. That little ending of yours had already evaporated from your fingertips, but as long as you kept believing that somehow, someway, that ending was still there, ready and waiting, you'd be able to get it. You'd recreate your past, and you didn't care how you did it. As long as you felt they were by your side, nothing else mattered."

He scoffed. "Everything you've done, you've done for them. But because they were human, and they had to die. I bet you chased after Megumi and Natsuno, simply because they were around the same age Amber was when she died. And in a way, they were living out your lie. I know Toma told you that much, if nothing else."

Haru pointed the gun to its forehead, unrelenting in his final judgement. His pupils settled along Mr. Fawn's face for a bit, before rephrasing his initial observation.

"No, that's not right. You targeted them because they were from Sotoba, a village that was wiped away from the face of the earth. They were alive, even though they weren't supposed to be, and they lost everything, just like you did. You wanted to reach out to them, didn't you? You wanted their help, even when they were broken themselves.

"Yet…at the same time, you felt they stood for everything that life has taken away from you. They still had each other, while you had no one, and you wanted to punish them for that. Is that right?"

"Them!" it suddenly squealed, pressing its palm against the faces then, without the slightest hesitation. "I love them!"

Haru regarded him silently, his finger on the trigger. And finally, he resigned himself from his position as judge. "I know. I love them too."

He pulled the trigger.


	50. 50 Motive

Megumi watched the festival, her eyes trailing after the lanterns which dotted the dark, calm waters. Candles spread out their small, dim flames over the autumn air, all the while the scented aroma from the various foods kept the delightful atmosphere alive. Colorful flags decorated the stalls, the lanterns seemingly floating from beyond the darkness. Booths kept up with their bustling markets, inviting the visitors to sample their selections, all the while pinning them down for purchases and shoving the merchandise into their hands. Tiny children ran about, playing their made up games with friends, adults, passive strangers who kept looking to the skies for fireworks. Couples surrounded their friends joyfully, excitedly chatting the evening away with their lovers and the like, arms linked, contentment adorning their already pretty faces. Elegant yukatas adorned the scene, their patterns fitting in with the somewhat nostalgic feel tonight, with seemingly realistic wishes blossoming from afar.

Her ponytails were tied back with a black ribbon, the strands tickling her collarbone with each move. She wore a simple, black sundress for the occasion, her heels striking the ground as she continued on with her path. She stared at the crowds for a bit, before going off somewhere else, gazing adoringly at the decorations nearby.

"Megumi!" a happy voice suddenly squealed. Before she could react, two arms wrapped around her waist, and squeezed her to death. "You actually came!"

She blinked, her lips slightly agape from Haru's surprise attack. He was wearing a dark blue yukata, an appearance that contrasted to luminous radiance of the festival goers, albeit his expression was similar to theirs. His hair was tied back in a small ponytail, making the boy look more like a small, hyperactive dog than anything else. It took her some time to compose herself, but finally, she reluctantly returned his smile. "Obviously. I've got nothing better to do."

"You really shouldn't act like that," he chided playfully, his timid nature no longer peeking through his voice. "I mean, it _is_ a festival after all. There's food and games and candles…is um, everything alright?"

Their eyes met at that moment.

He wore black slacks at that time, with a white dress shirt to go with it. Black sneakers went along with his pale skin, which reflected the golden lights around him unwaveringly. He didn't have that checkered jacket with him, an aspect that emphasized his already thin frame.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot," Haru admitted sheepishly, as he grabbed Yuuki's wrist, and led him toward the already uncomfortable predicament. "I invited Natsuno too. I kept telling him about those sticky cakes, and I figured, why not? So um…" The boy leaned in, and bowed low, though his breath still glazed Megumi's ear. "Can you um…can you both…?"

"It's fine," she reassured, looking away from his happy-go-lucky expression. He popped back up, and turned to Yuuki, who agreed to the same conditions.

Thankfully, Haru never noticed the tension between the two shikis, and instead, took their reluctance as a sign that, at the very least, they'd get along for his sake. He proceeded to grab their hands, and walk them into the festival, ignoring the obvious turbulence brewing behind him.

* * *

Natsuno stood over Haru, observing the tiny goldfish swimming to and from every corner. Their highlighted, mundane scales kept everyone on edge, what with the lively air the fish managed to generate from their feeble attempts to escape. Their gills glided smoothly through the waters, taking in the light oxygen which then fueled their bodies. Orange casually mixed with verdant, a slight pink tinting fish slightly. The tiny, blue pool did nothing to rob them of their contrast.

Unfortunately, Natsuno was, at the moment, too annoyed to enjoy the scene.

At first, it seemed like an ordinary invitation. Apparently, there was a local yukata festival near his school, and he wanted Natsuno to come along. The jinrou, of course, rejected him, and has repeatedly done so until finally, the boy broke down crying. He looked so pitiful, not only because he was drawing attention to himself in the cafe, but because he kept saying "sorry" over and over again. He did this for three consecutive days, before finally, Natsuno agreed. Judging from just a ten minutes ago, it seems Haru forgot to tell him a very important detail.

He sighed when the boy looked up at him. He turned back, and stared at Shimizu, who was also standing above Haru. "And that's how you play," he instructed quietly. "Give it a try."

"N-no, I'd rather-"

"Come on, please?"

It only took a second for Shimizu to break down.

Haru stood, and set her down in front of the pool. He forced the net into her delicate hands, and kept both hands on her shoulders as he watched her concentrated movements. It wasn't long before his attention rerouted itself back to Natsuno. "See?" he whispered. "Nothing to worry about."

"Haru…why am I here again?"

"To help Megumi win the competition," he stated bluntly.

Natsuno blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Well…there's a lot of decorations here, and I figured Megumi might need the inspiration. And besides," he murmured fiercely, "you're my wingman for the night!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"You're already here! No take backs! None!"

"Congratulations, young miss!" The man suddenly screeched, causing the three to jolt. Carefully, he crouched down and wrapped the tiny fish in a small, plastic bag, before slapping it in Shimizu's hands. "See? Easy win! Come on, who's next?"

Slowly, she stood, and turned to the two with a slightly surprised expression on her face. Natsuno turned away, and instead focusing on the scribbled on sidewalks. From the corner of his eye, he could see Haru beaming at his love interest, along with Shimizu's downcast eyes. "Cool," he stated happily. "You know, I've never seen a fish up close. Weird huh?"

"Y-yeah."

"Weird."

* * *

Tonight was a total disaster.

From every game they visited, both Megumi and Natsuno would remain aloof from one another, and would often look away from each other when Haru talked with the two. Their intense stares were overwhelming, and the way they simply expected the now troublesome night to pass on was a bit much. He would stop by the booths, allowing Megumi to examine the accessories planted there, while Natsuno sat back in the benches, watching the other groups laughing and joking amongst themselves. The trio kept lapsing into tense pauses whenever Haru tried bringing up something about the festival, and though they weren't fighting, it was clear both Megumi and Natsuno be anywhere but here.

Haru was disappointed, to say the least. Just this afternoon, he thought that if the two started spending _some _time together, perhaps they would be able to remedy whatever mistakes they've made in the past, and start over. However, Megumi wasn't teasing him as she usually did, and Natsuno was acting a lot more irritable than usual, so that made interacting all the more difficult. It was also hard for Haru to enjoy himself as well, since he had to be the medium between the two.

He had no idea it would blow over like this.

After wandering around aimlessly for another two hours, the three sat at on the grass. The fireworks were supposed to start any time now. Excited onlookers gathered near the edge of the lake's banks, enthusiastic smiles on their faces. Parents were setting their toddlers in their laps, while peers hugged each other tightly, while watching the skies for the entertaining explosions.

Haru sat between his two companions, toying shyly with his sleeve. He stole a look at the two, knowing full well they were trying to sit away from one another. He simply stared at the grass then, and sighed. Maybe he should just call the whole thing off before they rip each other's throats out.

Haru stood up. "Hey, I'm gonna get the cakes. Want any?"

Megumi smiled sadly. "I'm good.

"Hurry back."

"Right," the boy answered. He scratched his head, and proceeded to walk into the stalls. He looked over his shoulder once more, then turned away.

Were they really that close to the lake?

* * *

Most of the candles were all gathered in one place near the river, their lights shining down at the enthusiastic crowd. He could hear people pointing out their lights to other strangers, who, in turn, were doing the same. There were still a few candles that needed to be sold, unfortunately, despite the warm, cozy light which brought it its fame. No, he didn't need the money, but it'd nice if everyone bought one from him; after all, an empty hand is better than a full one, right? And he'd been wanting to try those incredibly sticky cakes for some time now, ever since he first hearts about them from a friend.

The seller wandering through the labyrinth of people, his eyes scouring the anticipating audience. His green jacket covered his worn out, white t-shirt. Jeans kept sweeping the spider lilies below, as he moved from one person to the next, offering the candles to people who, sadly, already bought one.

A couple more minutes before the show starts, was what a concession girl told him. He only had two candlesticks left. If he can finish his job by then, then he'll reward himself with a little cake. That was the deal he made with himself, and a reasonable one at that.

His wide, caramel eyes kept surveying faces big and small, old and young, pretty and ugly. He needed strangers. He needed newcomers who had absolutely no idea what they were doing, much less where they were going. A pair, preferably, who obviously wasn't familiar with this place and needed a bit of relaxation.

A bright, wide smile suddenly erupted from his face. There!

He clutched the candles toward his chest and maneuvered through the picnic blankets and food, all the while keeping the targets in sight. He couldn't help but wonder why they were so close to the river. The banks were pretty slippery, and it wasn't like there was a beach around. The river was fifteen feet deep, and there've been a lot of instances where people actually drowned because they slipped and fell in.

Ah, they're old enough. They know what they're doing.

He stopped, a few feet away from the two. "Hey!" he called.

The boy turned, barely noticing the seller's voice. His eyes wandered for a bit, before settling on the man. "Wanna buy some candles? Two left!"

"No, it's-"

"200 yen a piece!" the seller kept saying. "Hate for you both to be missing out!"

The girl looked back warily. Her eyes widened then. Carefully, she stood, balancing herself on the unstable soil. "I'll buy them," she said, much to his relief.

Slowly, he made his way to the pair, holding the candles as he descended the steep hill. He bit his lip, and moved forward, inching closer and closer to the girl until finally, he managed to hand the candles over. He fished the lighter from his pocket and lit the wax. "There…" he said softly. "Make a wish and put it on the water."

"Right. Thanks."

He watched as the girl crouched down, and put the candle lights near the surface. It was pretty deep however, and even from here, he could see her straining. His eyes lingered on the boy for a bit, who eventually got on his knees to see the candles.

With a satisfied smile, the seller rubbed his weary hands on his jeans, and began climbing back up the hill. He would've made it up too, if not for that careless misstep he made while suddenly practically leaping gleefully at the prospect of selling all his candles. Fortunately, when he fell, he remained on the banks.

His two customers, however, did not.

* * *

Water kept gushing into Natsuno's lungs, as he struggled to keep himself aloft. His nails kept groping the liquid space, as he endeavored removing the confusion from his mind. His body, apparently, wasn't listening, and kept flailing under the surface. The cold surrounded him steadily, piercing his movements with heavy waters. There was something touching his side, something that was just as panicked as he was. Natsuno opened his eyes, and began searching through the abyss, trying to determine where he was, what had happened.

He grabbed something from the waters. Floating. It was floating.

And with that, the two resurfaced.

The water stung their eyes, and both were coughing heavily, their bodies forcing out the water they managed to swallow. By the time he managed to calm down, he stared up at the banks. "What…what the-?!"

"_What the hell?!" _ Shimizu managed, glaring back up at the now absent seller, who was probably hiding behind the bystanders.

He clenched his teeth then, staring out at the lake. He balled his fist, and started to let go of Shimizu, when he began going under again. He felt her arm wrap around his waist, before pulling him up. "Damn it," he muttered frustratingly.

He felt Shimizu's curious eyes on him then. His head whipped back at her. "What?" he scowled.

"Yuuki…you can swim, right?"

When he didn't answer, a small grin broke out from her lips. It wasn't long before her howling laughter erupted from the silence. Much to Natsuno's dismay, a small flash of heat burst across his face, and hastily, he turned away.

* * *

Haru stared at the two companions, one cake in hand, the other with his new pet goldfish, as he took in their dramatically different appearances. It took him some time to shift through the various scenarios through his brain, from someone accidentally pushing them in, to one of them dragging the other down into the lake. He kept shifting his gaze between his companions, before finally, he settled on one instance, and turned to Natsuno. He took a deep breath, and said, "She's mine."

"What?"

"You jerk!" Haru shouted, protectively covering his lady from the tyrant. "You know how I feel about her!"

"No, look, it's all just-"

"You knew!"

"Haru, listen-!"

"Megumi, it's okay!" the boy stated bravely. "You don't need to defend him!"

"Haru, for once just listen-!"

The misunderstanding went on for the rest of the night.

* * *

_"No, that's not right. You targeted them because they were from Sotoba, a village that was wiped away from the face of the earth. They were alive, even though they weren't supposed to be, and they lost everything, just like you did. You wanted to reach out to them, didn't you? You wanted their help, even when they were broken themselves._

_"Yet…at the same time, you felt they stood for everything that life has taken away from you. They still had each other, while you had no one, and you wanted to punish them for that. Is that right?"_

_"Them!" it suddenly squealed, pressing its palm against the faces then, without the slightest hesitation. "I love them!"_

_Haru regarded him silently, his finger on the trigger. And finally, he resigned himself from his position as judge. "I know. I love them too."_

_He pulled the trigger._


	51. Chapter 51

Akira threw his bag on the doorstop, relieving himself of the suffocating jacket as he moved slowly from the cold. He closed the door, took off his shoes, and wheezed out a long, tired exhale. The snow was piling up out there. Though he managed to play in it for a while, it seems he couldn't handle little the jubilance of seeing something as freezing as that. Even Love was shivering by the time the boy was done with his exploits, since he was caught more than once trembling near Akira's leg, doing whatever he could to draw out what little warmth his jeans could afford him.

He shrugged off his coat, and threw his mittens aside as he made his way toward the den, dreaming of the moment he could crawl into his futon and sleep the break away. More than once he caught himself staring out the windows, the snow quickly rebuilding what damage he left on its pristine existence, but he dismissed its appearance altogether when his appetite aroused again.

But unfortunately, it seems his enervation won out, and before long, he found himself on the floor, groaning at the dull aching that erupted from his limbs.

Even when he was just lying there, the boy had a hard time breathing, his lungs pierced by both ice and snow alike; coupled with an insult Akira threw at one of the teachers, the conclusion of a badly injured student was inevitable. Still, Mori-san could throw a really good snowball, as Akira so painfully found out, as did the other kids, albeit they had help from the teachers, Sasaki-sensei of all people, the jerk.

He groaned, and lifted his head. Okay, he can't stay here forever. Mr. Yuuki was gonna come back late, and from what he heard from the other teachers, Kaori was gonna be stuck in that storm for a while. He had to do _something_, else he was fine with just starving to death. It seems Love was expecting the same thing, whimpering on the floor with little restraint, trying to urge the boy to, at the very least, quiet the dog's rumbling stomach.

Akira stood and stretched his tiny arms, then sauntered toward the kitchen, his still fragile breaths attempting to warm his icy hands, as he opened the refrigerator. His eyes scanned the shelves for a brief moment. He shut it and twisted toward the cupboards. He crouched down, grimacing at the tired, agonizing sensation that distorted his joints, when he opened the oversized, wooden containers, and grabbed the nearest ramen noodle cup. The boy opened the cover and took a tiny bite out of the thick noodles, before tearing off the seasoning and sprinkling it over the plain, soon-to-be soup. He shut the door and stood, making his way toward the kitchen sink.

His fingers tapped the edge lightly, as he opened the faucet. When he saw steam coming from the opening, he placed the cup in the water's way for a few minutes, before shutting it off and leaving the cup somewhere else. When he looked down, he saw Love sniffing the cup, his tongue desperately endeavoring to somehow lick the morsel toward him. Akira huffed, reaching down and carrying the dog away from his meal. "Mine," he scolded.

Love looked up, and whimpered.

"That's not gonna work," he said, turning the dog so that the two were facing one another. "Do that when Kaori or Mr. Yuuki comes back."

He cocked his head.

"I'm no pushover."

He barked.

Akira set the creature down. He grabbed the remote from the kitchen counter and sat himself in front of the television set. He pushed Love away with one arm as the screen suddenly flickered alive. He tucked his knees in his chest, and lay on his stomach, gazing dreadfully at the television set.

For the past month he couldn't get his sister to say anything. Whether it be about the okiagari, or Mr. Yuuki, or anything at all pertaining to those monsters, for some reason she wouldn't talk with him about it. Even when it was clearly bothering her, she still refused; as her brother Akira did have a right to know about it, especially if somehow, someway Sotoba was involved. He's tried telling her that over and over again, yet she refused to take him seriously, so unlike the sister he knew from before, who would always run to him if she had any problems, who would ask if she could sleep with him if she had even the mildest of nightmares, who would cry whenever someone from school was being mean to her, or if Megumi herself was just harsher than usual. No, instead, she would give him that same, stupid smile she gave Mr. Yuuki, and that Ken guy, who keeps showing up here for one reason or another. Though she wasn't terrified, she wasn't at all comfortable with telling anyone the truth, even Akira.

And it was that attitude that there were some days when he just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her awake, screaming that they were siblings, and siblings never keep secrets from one another. That wasn't how things were supposed to be, and even if they were he still enjoyed the close relationship he had with Kaori. It's not like he'll get another relative or anything, unless, of course, Mr. Yuuki decides to remarry.

Akira turned to Love, who was lying near his elbow, his tongue flopping all over his mouth. To be honest, Kaori had been a bit busy, and though Mr. Yuuki never noticed anything, Love did. She never took him out for those walks as frequently as she used to; rather, she would stay in her room, staring up at the ceiling with that deep, disturbing gaze of hers. Nowadays, a majority of the time the only reason she would call out to her pet was to be squeezed to death. Even that sort of affection was something Love shrunk away from.

He propped his head with one elbow, allowing the dog to sniff his fingers as he relayed to the creature his own problems. "Boring," he whispered. "It's no fun if she's gonna be like that."

Once again, Love cocked his head, before nodding a little.

"She doesn't even take you out anymore. Who cares if she broke her arm? She loves you, right? That's probably why she gave you that stupid name, huh?"

His dark pupils stared back at Akira's, and immediately, his tail began wagging.

"You already played today. Enough already. Wait for Kaori to come home."

His ears perked at hearing his mistress's name, and at that instant, Love stopped sniffing Akira's fingers. His tiny paws rested underneath his head, the dog's obedient nature suddenly commanding his actions. Akira sighed. "I'm not like her though," he said emptily. "If it's the okiagari, shouldn't we be working together? I mean, it's not like I've got anything better to do. And neither do you…huh."

Akira turned back and placed both his hands on his torso. The ramen should be done now. But it's not like it's going anywhere, and he was so tired, the fatigue claiming every ounce of strength his body had left. The adrenaline which once aided him had already left his system, and since there was nothing else exciting to look forward to today, Akira could have easily just as fallen asleep.

It was times like these when he might as well have just died of boredom. What'd Megumi say? That the city would be exciting and mysterious? He'd be an idiot if he kept believing in that.

His eyes were just about to drift close when the word "murder" popped out of the blue.

Akira looked up slightly.

The newswoman was still up there, reporting on what appeared to be a company building wrapped with yellow police tape. As the screen shifted, the cameras entering the structure, Akira's jaw dropped when he saw a huge gaping hole in the middle of the lobby. Police were starting to hound the various reporters swarming nearby, and though there were incoherent questions tossed here and there, the police kept endeavoring to make sense of it all. All the while the citizens kept on with their rampant behavior.

He narrowed his eyes. Well, from that major fashion show, it was no wonder everyone was behaving this way. Did they think the police were somehow behind that destruction? Looks like it, considering how one person managed to shove an officer back, all the while taunting him, holding out both his arms and daring the officer to shoot him.

"An American businessman by the name of Virgil Fawn," the woman stated, "was found brutally murdered in his own business, having sustained two fatal gunshot wounds to the head and heart. From police reports, it seems there was a break in the night before. All cameras were shut down, and no witnesses were left behind. Police are continuing their investigation in the crime-"

Akira pursed his lips. "Mr. Saito would've been able to solve that in a heartbeat," he bragged. "This'd be no problem for him." His hand suddenly grabbed Love's head and began ferociously petting the dog. "He'd probably even catch the bad guys by now."

Love stared up at him.

Akira grimaced at the dog's apparent doubt. "Of course he would! Maybe the reason why he died was because the bad guys knew he was onto their little plan. So to keep him quiet, they had to kill him!"

He paused.

His eyes widened in realization. Carefully, he stood up, his fists balled, as he stared at the newswoman, who was continuing on with the police report as if nothing had happened. "That's it! That's the motive! Mr. Saito knew something was wrong, and he went in to check it out! He probably knows who the culprit was! But they took him out before he could even do anything!

"Mr. Saito died…because his heart was removed." he muttered, glancing down at Love. "The killer targeted the heart, and it's the same with that guy. He's the one behind all of this! What? You think he's working with the Queen of Hearts too?"

Much to his relief and horror, Love nodded.

"Then that settles it!" Akira shouted, proudly holding himself despite his many injuries. "We're gonna go and catch this guy! Mr. Saito can rest easy!" He falls silent for a while, as he stared at the television screen. "I'm not helpless. I can do things myself. I don't need Kaori for this, and I don't want Mr. Yuuki to get involved either. Hey, Love. Don't mention any of this to my sister, alright?"

The dog barked happily.

* * *

Kaori peered around the empty classroom, her dark eyes coming from one corner to the other. Her hand grips the door frame, her bag slung over her shoulders, as she carefully takes one step through the silence, then another, then another. She hugs her coat, slowly closing the door, as she walks toward the front of the room, her dark, elongated shadow grazing over the polished floors. Soft echoes to which her footsteps delved became little more than a nuisance, slowly fading within the reaches of time as she scanned the room, never once leaving herself to the midst of the decadent city outside, the frost surrounding the window frames quite easily, and without remorse. Grey, depressive clouds hung low in the skies, the tenebrous sea stretching over the schools with its icy claws. bringing the once bustling surrounding into a slow, grinding halt.

Classes were being let out early due to the ice, and despite the prospect of getting lost in the upcoming snowstorm, it seemed her classmates were still trying to brave the weather, if only for the delightful dream of home. A majority of the student body was in the cafeteria, waiting for that special call from the teachers saying they could go home. Though many were abiding by the rules, there were few who couldn't possibly hope to wait that long, their patience wearing thin as they kept demanding they be released from such an unpleasant prison. Kaori could hear their excuses echoing throughout the corridors, the desperation ringing from their throats. She started to tune the brats out when she heard of their constant, "scholarly" arguments, trying to bring modern, financial tactics such as bribery into their petty squabbles, though as of this point the faculty was fed up with all of them. She wouldn't even be surprised if the teachers decided to lock all the students in that dreadful cafeteria for the entire break; Kosei-sensei wouldn't have a problem with it.

She took a deep breath and sighed.

Exams were finally over. Two weeks of not dealing with her peers was incredibly relaxing, however horrific the year had been. The Purge, then the bullying, and the constant fears she'd been having, though she'd gotten over most of them, was enough to drive any person insane.

Summer, autumn, then winter, and it'll be spring again. Who knows? Maybe the new year would bring something better; new beginnings, perhaps another chance at the life she missed out on. She didn't want any excitement, didn't want any abnormal experiences outside her own humanity, and though that'd be a relief, she knew the prayer would fall short. After all, it was hard to do something even as simple as laugh, recall any memories in which she could hopelessly lean back on, any feelings that might've once warmed her heart.

Well, if it were that easy, she wouldn't have suffered so badly like this.

But then again, perhaps it wouldn't be that difficult. Mr. Yuuki will be there with her, and Love, and her little brother Akira. Yasuhiko-san will be there as well, though he'd been missing a lot of classes lately. There was Ken, who has started taking precedence in their somewhat unstable acquaintance, and there were the few girls who started chasing after Kaori with gossip and rumors still pouring from their lips.

Though it was impossible to avoid those girls, at the same time the girl couldn't help but find herself drawn in by their carefree attitude, never once bothering to look at the world with that horrific perspective Kaori fell to. Pure, untouched, and unsullied, only looking after themselves while everyone else was drawn to their own demonic nightmares, calling upon an air of turbulent fickleness with those same, selfish lusts decorating their core.

They were like Megumi in a way.

She leaned against the desk, and closed her eyes, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. Christmas was coming. With all the pestering Akira would do, she was probably going to have to go to the mall tomorrow. He and his friends were doing something for the break, which, unfortunately, involved exploring that abandoned building again. Mr. Yuuki would still be trying to pay the hospital bills, and even with the money from her former job, he would have to work during the holidays, allowing little time for vacations or breaks or even homemade dinners. That left Kaori to her lonesome for the time being; she was too nervous to talk with Yasuhiko-san about it, and she didn't want to even consider Ken, who was going to possibly party the days away.

She heard rampant footsteps, racing down the hallway with little regard for the quiet around her. She slid her eyes open, a silhouette careening toward the doorway, the familiar shadow panting heavily. Without delay, the stranger shoved open the door, and Kaori's eyes widened.

"Yasuhiko-san?"

His pristine coat was halfway buttoned, a black scarf clinging to his neck for dear life as the yarn slowly unraveled its threads with every second passed. His gloves were shoved messily in his pocket, his hands clutching what appeared to be the missing assignments he'd begun to accumulate over the passed weeks. The disheveled expression grazing his face kept replaying the chaotic moments just minutes before, his messy, blond hair sticking up from around his skull. His cheeks and nose were red, and though a brief, relieved smile happily decorated his face, that torrential fear remained in his eyes. He's already been to the cafeteria, it seems.

"Tanaka-san?" he barely managed, as he eased the tension claiming his body. His heavy breaths gradually reduced to small, puffs of air. "What're you still-?"

"Blizzard," she laughed. "What happened to you?"

He paused for a moment, his jaw agape. She could practically see the gears twisting in his mind, his own fanatical thoughts attempting to come up with any plausible excuses as to why he was absent today. Finally, he merely stated, "Traffic."

"I thought we couldn't go off campus."

"Ha…" his voice falters steadily, as he walks over toward the podium, placing the papers on the surface. "Well, about that…"

"You know, you really should take me with you when you do that kind of thing," Kaori continued.

"Your prince following you again?" he asked jokingly, setting himself across from the girl, his hands folded in his lap.

"I…don't think so?"

"Huh."

"Where've you been, by the way? Just yesterday, a guy came up to me and asked where you were. It looked like your teacher was really mad too."

"She let me do the work at home," he chuckled hesitantly. "And I took the exam just when she was about to leave the school. Barely passed."

"Cutting it close, aren't you?"

"You're one to talk."

"What'd I do? Come on, tell me."

He laughed. "Ken confessed, right? And you didn't even tell me about it."

Kaori brushed the subject aside. "It's nothing. That was more sexual harassment than anything else."

"You _liked _it, didn't you?"

She scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "_No, _I didn't."

"Yeah. I don't believe it."

"You're awfully persistent today."

Yasuhiko-san smirked. "I've had a lot on my mind lately. You're a really good distraction, you know that?"

Kaori narrowed her eyes. "It's not like you to be serious about anything."

Yasuhiko-san gaped at her in mock horror, his smile widening as she scrutinized him. "Besides the aliens!"

"Yeah, besides the aliens." she teased playfully. "But what is it though? What's the matter?"

He simply shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, as he stared up at her with unreadable eyes. Beneath his eyes were dark shadows, the weariness surrounding them engulfing the vivid, radiant light once sheltered in his eyes. He bit his lip, then plastered that same smile on his face. "Really, it's nothing."

She folded her arms. "Come on. If it's about the aliens thing-"

He forced out a nervous chuckle. "It's ah…it's rather different."

She blinked. "Is it that serious?"

"Sort of. I guess you could say it's a bit personal."

She straightened then. Carefully, she placed her bag on the floor and hopped on the desk, the uneasiness etched into the lines of her face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he answered. He closed his eyes, a hushed resignation clouding his normally expressive features. There was a pause between the two shadows, and as the wind picked up from the outside, the dirgeful elegy forcing its hellish lullaby upon the other inhabitants, time seemed to, at that moment, stop. "It's just…it's my friend."

"Oh?"

The boy hesitated, painfully clutching his hands as he debated on whether or not to continue. "He's hurting," he said. "But whenever I try talking with him about it, he usually just brushes me off."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Looks like it."

Kaori stared at him. "What happened?"

Yasuhiko-san averted his gaze to the floor, and it was then Kaori saw him age. Though he kept his youthful appearance, it seemed the pendulum had begun swinging faster and faster, to the point where he seemingly began withering away, the dying soul vanishing before her so readily. "That's just it. I _don't_ know what happened. He keeps telling me he's okay, but it's anything but, and I don't know what to do."

Kaori leaned over. "Is he a good friend?"

"He…he is." he finished softly.

"Then wait. At least let him know how you feel about it. Give him some room. He'll come to you eventually." she answered automatically.

Yasuhiko-san flickered his eyes up uncertainly. "So what if he did something bad? So bad that you had no idea how to deal with it, and I couldn't even look him in the eye?"

Kaori stopped for a moment, and looked back at Yasuhiko-san, the tentative pause claiming both parties, as she reflected on his question for a moment. Megumi appeared in her mind for a brief second, before she pushed the thought away.

No; that was a different setting, a different time. Yet, the shock enamored itself in her throat, and it wasn't long before she began shifting through her own, painful memories for her reactions, a countless procession of emotions passing her by. Meticulous, shattering details carved themselves within the still healing wounds of her heart, from the time she realized her former childhood friend was coming to kill her, to the destruction on the mountain side, the fire engulfing whatever left she held dear. There were no regrets at the time, no remorse for what she did, only a longing emptiness which scratched and clawed and tore the remnants of such a happy childhood.

"You're his good friend, aren't you?" she asked finally. Her voice froze then, but she mustered her strength, and gave her companion a tiny smile. "If the time comes when he's ready to tell you, then listen. You don't have to look at him. You don't have to forgiven him. You don't even have to acknowledge him. Just stand there…and listen."

"And if I can't listen?" he inquired quietly.

"Then… just be there for him. No matter how painful that may be."


	52. Chapter 52

Akira stood outside the police station, the morning still struggling to catch up with his own, rushed pace. He was in his puffy, blue jacket, the grey hood slung over his head like an unwelcome present, and his hands were shoved in his pockets. A black scarf wrapped around his throat, and his jeans rubbed uncomfortably against his legs. There were still so few people walking behind him, some talking about the latest news, others buried in their own problems, and still others who are worrying for others, as he should be doing, though his adolescent hyperactivity prevented him from doing so.

He took a deep breath. Mr. Saito was a hero. Of everyone here, he wasn't supposed to die. He didn't _deserve _to die. It just wasn't fair.

He clenched his fists, and slowly walked into the warm office.

He found himself amidst an array of desks, all neatly lined in straight rows, all uniform with no praises or congratulations for their unique attire. Flickering fluorescent lights gave way to a mesmerizing, boring sequence, one he wouldn't actually mind staring at all day, if his patience allowed for it. Cobwebs adorned the abandoned, rustic corners of the office, the smell of udon and ramen attracting every little desperate insect that came with finding such warmth. There was a small group of police officers in the back, but they were so engrossed with the latest of their branch's screw up they never bothered about the young boy, who was wandering around, his grey eyes peeking around the surrounding shadows.

Akira narrowed his eyes. Hopefully, they didn't believe that crap on the news. Mr. Saito would never do something like that, even if he did have a few problems. Someone _has_ to know what's been happening. At the very least they should be able to tell him if they've made any progress in the investigation yet.

So he took off his coat, tugged away the scarf, and waited. He would walk from one desk to another, peer down the dark hallways which housed the interrogation rooms, stare at the group of men once or twice. Every time he looked back, they remained oblivious to his presence. He bit his lip and stormed up to one of the officers. "Hey!"

No one, it seems, heard him.

"HEY!"

One of them did turn around then.

The boy straightened and prepared himself, ready to take on whoever stood in the way of his curiosity, to attack the obstacle that stood in his path. A dreamlike image of his own persona came to mind, and suddenly, he was wearing a cape. He had a cool looking mask on like the heroes in Super Sentai World, as well as muscles that were barely contained under his clothes. From his own standpoint, he was invincible, untouchable, rescuing those who needed him, jerking around those who envied him. That little kid from Sotoba was no longer there. Rather, something stronger carried him, something that wasn't held down by the griefs the okiagari gave him, the frustrations his sister embedded into him. There were no haunting memories within his frame, no cursed nightmares that kept him up every night. He was confident, carefree, and happy; the ideal hero that could outwit any foe, fight any enemy, get all the girls he could possibly ever want, if only to keep his loved ones safe.

That pride faded from the moment he saw the officer.

The man was tall, rough-looking, his hair sticking out from all sides of his face. Dark shadows covered his pale skin, with bruises that emphasized the ruinous condition of his flesh. Burn marks were scorched all over his face, and his black business suite did nothing to make the him seem any less demonic. There was an irritated frown plastered on his face, and it wasn't until a second later did Akira realize he'd have to take a step back, else his rancid breath wash over the boy like an unpleasant wave.

He put his arms on his hips and tried imitating that delusion tap dancing in his brain, only to fail horribly. "I have a request," he barely squeaked.

"What the hell are you doing here kid?" he growled. "Who let you in?"

"I uh…I-!"

"Dude, stop it," one of them chided. "You're scaring him. And besides, it's not like Tsukiyama ever does shit around here."

"Shut it," the demon hissed, before turning back to Akira. "Well? Out with it."

"Um…" Akira began. "Mr. Saito…"

"What's that douche gotta do with you? You his damn fanboy or something?"

Akira bit the inside of his lips, and glared at the man. "He's the bravest man in the world. Don't badmouth him like he's another one of your _bitches_."

The guy behind him suddenly laughed then, hiding his conspicuous mocking through an emaciated hand. "_Damn dude. _Kid's got spunk, I'll give him that."

"You punk ass little…!" The man grabbed Akira's collar then, forcing the boy. His knuckles embedded themselves into his throat, and he yelped in surprise at the attack. Both his hands gripped the man's beefy wrist, as he struggled to regain his balance, though obviously not deterred from the immediate threat. "_Son of a damn bitch_!"

"Hey, he's just a kid. Put him down."

"Screw that, damn _fucking-!" _

"You wanna finish that sentence?"

And then he stopped.

Slowly, Akira felt himself lowered to the ground, his collar loosened from his monstrous grip. The boy heaved heavily, but he never gave ground, as he continued glaring daggers at the monster. All the while, the man rubbed his neck awkwardly, quietly backing down from his superior, as he returned to his corner. Curses still flourished from his lips, all the while looking away from Akira, who now triumphantly stared at the ape, his heroic image returning to his mind.

"You okay?"

Akira swirled around to the sound of the voice, shocked by the boy behind him. He was taller than he was, that boy, with a calm, delicate smile on his face, an aspect Akira could never understand. Black hair fell from his shoulders, and along with it black orbs that drew Akira in, never letting him out of his sight. He was wearing a high school uniform, a grey blazer with black pants underneath. Did he go to Kaori's school?

Like the ape, his skin was pale, though it wasn't as sickly as the okiagari Akira had to deal with. Looks like he's got a pulse too. The guy's safe.

He shot the boy a haughty smile. "You know, you didn't have to do that. I could've handled that monster."

"Really?" he replied sarcastically. "I highly doubt that."

"It's true!"

"Then I'll take your word for it," he says, his amiable gaze sliding up to the group of men behind Akira, all of whom were now submissive, obedient, murmuring tiny words of apologetic praise to the ones they've wronged. "But I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't interested. You knew Saito-san?"

Akira blinked, unable to conceal the relief from his expression. "Yeah! My sister and I were friends with him!"

"Former chief of police, right?"

"That's right!" Akira confirmed vehenemently. "I just wanted to know if there've been anything…"

"Perhaps," the boy answered then. "What's your name?"

"Akira!" he stated proudly. "Akira Tanaka."

"So…you're Kaori's little brother?"

He blinked. "You know her?"

"Well…yeah." The boy laughed awkwardly. "I go to the same school with her. I've seen her in the halls, but I've never actually gotten to talk with her. I heard she had a brother," he tousled the boy's hair, "but I didn't think he'd be this brave. Either that or you're just really stupid."

"Brave," he affirmed.

"Brave then. I'm Toma by the way," he continues, extending his hand then. "My last name's a little embarrassing, so I don't use it."

"Huh…so anyway. About Mr. Saito-"

"Ah. Right, Saito-san always did talk about you. Never could shut up about the Tanaka siblings." A nostalgic grin was planted his face then, the once chilling atmosphere now breaking down. "Never got a chance to go to the guy's funeral. Biggest mistake of my life."

"Y-yeah." Akira remembered that day. He kept crying and crying and crying, while Kaori stood there, watching stoically as the mourners wished their beloved a final farewell. It was sad, depressive, but in the end, it was what made Akira more active, more mature, even if he never showed it. Yet at the same time, the scene felt all too familiar, familiar etchings of sorrow fulfilling the corners of his mind. He'd lost count how many times he thanked someone, anyone, Death perhaps, for sparing Mr. Yuuki.

Toma nodded solemnly. "To tell you the truth, the investigation is in a bit of a standstill."

Akira's ears suddenly perk up. "What?"

"Honest. The police think it has something to do with that village hidden in the mountainside. I mean, it _was_ pretty terrifying. It was so gruesome it's a mystery why we even buy the crap in horror books."

He narrows his eyes. "Sotobamura? Is that the village?"

Toma looked up. "Yeah. Why?"

"What was Mr. Saito looking into?"

"Occult stuff. A lot of serious shit went down in that place. To be perfectly honest, I'm not even sure that's kind of stuff is for police to be digging around. A couple of officers have already gone missing…"

Akira bit his lip. So it's true. Something _did _follow he and Kaori, something really really bad.

_And they never told anyone about it. _

Akira grabbed Toma's wrist. "I know what happened!" he shouted.

Toma blinked. "You know what happened…?"

"I'm from Sotoba!"

"Look, you're a nice kid-"

"Let me help," Akira said, the perseverance sparking in his eyes. No, not again. He wasn't going to let another death happen because of him, or his sister. That was what they owed everyone in the village, what they owed their parents, what they owed Natsuno. His grip tightened, the desperation showing from ever line in his face. "Please." he asked finally.

Toma stared at him for a moment, as if contemplating on whether or not to take the boy seriously. Finally, he relented. "Come into the interrogation room. I'll be a few minutes."

* * *

Natsuno drummed his fingers patiently from inside the cafe, with a blueberry muffin sitting in front of him, as he watched the outside go on by, the seconds bypassing him eagerly, and without mercy. Dark, soulless eyes glanced by at each person, imagining the stories they might've told had not they been enveloped in a blissful, light innocence, ones that he could barely look at without being utterly repulsed. An isolated air enveloped the melancholic silence, and within those quiet thoughts he began shifting forgotten feelings through his mind, one after the other. He then goes on with the seemingly dull activity, never bothering to look up at the significant absence before him. A child's lullaby drifts tonelessly throughout the enraged light, a colorful balloon dancing here and there over the edge of day, a content hum teetering off the edge of someone's lips. And it seems Shimizu was getting more and more popular everyday, her subtle tastes appearing throughout the torrential streams of bodies beside him.

A velvet shade of dark amethyst covered his face, along with a pale that caressed every movement he endeavored, tragic or dramatic otherwise. A torn, black checkered jacket adorned his torso this time, his previous old cloth now losing its worth, and underneath the fabric was a dark grey shirt that kept absorbing whatever color was left in the realities surrounding him, an age old pattern of skeletal wings and rustic clockwork making the jinrou older than he really was. He was wearing black jeans, and an old pair of dress shoes his father bought him once for school. Cold peeked through the fabric though, and even in a place as warm as this he felt the frosty blizzard from just a week ago, inching closer and closer to a heart that had already stopped beating.

Or perhaps not. After all, a pulse was a pulse, wasn't it? In the midst of a world as bloodstained and wretched as this, Natsuno supposed people never actually had time to consider what a heart meant, aside from what was necessarily the accepted norm. No one ever had to face their guilt conscience, never had to take blame as long as they believed it was alright, as long as they showed they regretted it, classifying it as some stupid mistake that should be buried in the past and kept there, long after the world rots away. It was a thought that kept recurring from within his corrupted mind, and these days it was all he could ever think about.

He often wondered how people like that were. He kept pondering on how they dealt with their remorse, other than apologizing, or solitude, or sacrificing their own futures for an unforgiving audience with no hope of escape. Jail seemed to harsh, prison seemed to meager, and what of that in-between? Those were the emotions he had wrapped inside himself, and more than once did he catch himself thinking of how regular people would handle something as small as a murder, as large as a massacre. Would they keep those same standards, biasing themselves to the point where only the outcome mattered? Would they pursue the cruelest punishment possible, even if they themselves abandoned something as trivial as law for the sake of their own enjoyment? Would they have stayed in that jury then, forcing the judge to pick whatever outcome they deemed best, without a thought of whether or not they kept on with appearances?

What would it be like then, to face the villagers one last time? Would Shimizu be there, standing before him, a victim masquerading as a judge? Or would she be with him, covered in bruises and scars, chains adorning her body with a quiet flow of blood following her to the stand? Would she be his fellow sinner, in the chaos of it all, wrapped in those same, guilty tendrils that claimed them both so easily? What were they charged with? What could have possibly constituted as justice in the eyes of those shadows?

He had no idea.

And it consumed him. It engrossed him, to the point where he couldn't even look at Shimizu anymore, or anyone else, for that matter. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say to ease the pain. Then again, it's not like Tooru would have a say in it either. He was dead, after all.

The jinrou's gaze slowly make their way toward the empty seating sitting across from him.

That was strange. Haru didn't come today either.

* * *

Megumi was in that tiny room once again, carefully tracing the scribbled on lines, her stare weaving together messages of bliss and ignorance. She stepped around corners softly, her legs bringing her from one end to the next, picking up neither inspiration nor awe as Mr. Murakami suggested it would. She sighed disappointedly, but continued on with her excursion, knowing full well his camera was trained on the door in the event she decided to sneak out. She still had six hours left, and he couldn't imagine allowing his "star designer" to leave so quickly.

The obsession was creepy, to say the least, but of course, perhaps that was how all businessmen acted; either that or they had a different way of thinking than everyone else. No, not businessmen; rather, children. Mr. Murakami was an adult who had the mind of a child, carrying a small fragment of dream within this nightmarish life. Megumi could certainly understand why the man would want to distance himself from something like that. The fine arts were supposedly a fairytale world where everyone kept struggling for their happy end, no matter how pathetic they were, or how pointless it seemed.

And it was by that logic she continued searching. Black met red, then purple, then green, then orange, then any other color the child seemingly came up with. Gibberish combined with scribbles, and symbols she thought she could make out ended up a kaleidoscopic blur of nothingness in the end. Whatever philosophical hope she had of ever solving this puzzle grew silent before she could ever even analyze anything.

But two hours later, she simply stood there, depressed and confused. She didn't know what Mr. Murakami saw in this, and even if there was some deeper meaning to it, Megumi simply wasn't interested in finding it. There was nothing at all that could grab her attention; the activity was just a waste of time.

And to add insult to injury, just yesterday, when she called in to ask about the mannequins, the man told her that it was alright, that she didn't need to worry about them anymore. Apparently, there was a really good company in America that was happy to take on a mundane task as that. After a few tense moments, Mr. Murakami then added, quite insultingly, "Don't call me about something like this again."

She really did want to strangle him then.

She suddenly heard a soft knock on the door. From the crack, Ms. Osaka appeared, ready and dressed for the winter. "Dearie, you can go home now, if you want…"

The shiki smiled. "Are the cameras still on?"

The old woman sighed, an edge of misery embedded in that kind heart of hers. "Better stay put then. Let me know when you're finished-"

Megumi shook her head. "I'll be fine. Your son's birthday's today, right?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure you'll be alright? You've heard the news, didn't you?"

"About the serial killer? Yeah. You be careful too, okay?"

Ms. Osaka gave her one last, lingering smile, before resigning to Megumi's request, and leaving the vampire there in the darkness. When she heard the old woman's footsteps resounding through the corridors, along with a few stray whispers from the staircase next to her, she returned to the predicament at hand, unsure of whatever meaning the somewhat unattractive mural carried.

It was around yesterday morning when police discovered the body of Virgil Fawn, in a company building where that monster had attacked her. A clean bullet was found lodged in his brain, and with the amount of destruction the structure suffered, it seemed the attack was anything short of malicious, calculated, well-planned, words that couldn't hope to comprehend the dark, twisted delusion the sins kept so carefully guarded in that place. Swarms of reporters gathered near the yellow tape, holding out their cameras with bright flashes going on and off all the time. A few of the officers had to keep them back, while others kept on with their own little mayhem, trying to calm themselves while asking supposed witnesses what exactly happened there. Not surprisingly, the employees didn't know either, but as of late, a majority of Fawn's rivals were labeled in suspect; not one of them was free from scrutiny.

Her neck was still healing at tat time, and though she could move her head, for some reason her legs remained paralyzed, so Yuuki had to carry her out. He managed to wrap his jacket around her abdomen, and since the sun was very much asleep asleep, they both snuck out without any problems. In fact, it was so abnormal, how they managed to just get away so easily.

When they got back to the apartment, however, Yuuki stayed silent, if only for a few hours. Though fatigue clouded Megumi's mind, and the painful sensation of bones and veins were snapping back into place, she couldn't help but grow a bit curious as to what he found there, or what the monster that attacked her was, or if Toma was behind all of this. That same curiosity flickered in Yuuki's eyes, but neither of them could say it. The words were dancing on her tongue, but bile built up in her throat, rendering her speechless for the remainder of the moments. Hunger was also a very troublesome burden, considering how parched she was, and from a glance, she could tell he was too.

And they both left it at that, with no other thought given to the predicament, for which both their madness stemmed.

Megumi bit her lip, the remnants of Yuuki's odd behavior still pressing her mind. She crouched down to examine yet another meaningless drawing, her arms folded in neatly, as she kept aimlessly watching the circles passing through white. Could they really afford to keep secrets from each other, especially something as important as this? She had no idea what was going on, no clue what was about to happen, and all Yuuki could do was make small talk. She was hurt, if not outright enraged by his utter lack of cooperation. What's more, the distance that once faded from her mind, as well as the trust she enjoyed, was now shattered, gone from her decadent wishes.

What was it? What was he hiding? Did it involve Kaori, or Haru, or Toma? Did it involve Bethlehem Hospital, or the syndicates, or even her company? Was it nothing at all? No, it couldn't be; Yuuki wouldn't be so tense if everything was solved at the drop of a hat. And what of Amber Fawn? Why was she so important in all of this?

What _about_ Amber Fawn?

Megumi stood then, and went to another wall, her fingernails lingering near the crumbling walls. She remembered her files, all of which were still sitting in the apartment somewhere, probably getting ready to be tossed away one way or the other. She was the daughter of an American tourist. She had a very bad blood disease that limited her enjoyment, if not ruined it, and somehow, it grew deadlier and deadlier, until the girl reached her breaking point. After that, she went missing.

There were cages in the Hospital. There were cages when she woke up. There were people in those cages. No, they weren't experiments. But they weren't patients either. They were food, livestock, an inevitable chain of survival in which not even Yuuki was exempt. She was in there to put a stop to the syndicates. She was there when the Hospital burned down, as did the tunnels. She killed them. She killed human and shiki alike.

But what was Yuuki, of all people, doing there?

She stopped when she came to a certain drawing on the wall. Unlike the others, this one was actually good. The edges were still a bit rough, but the details were so exquisite and detailed that she couldn't help but wonder if this was the same artist. It was, she realized, but it appears they've aged quite a bit, the mature sadness showing even from the faded crayons and markers. Some paint was used, which might've added to the contrast.

It was a small, tiny bouquet of flowers set in the middle of the walls, the colors blending so well together in all its significance. The light brown reminded Megumi of that stupid little basket Kaori would always take with her when they were young, spring arriving within the blink of an eye. Light green vines entwined with the thin handle, with small spiders dangling from the hem. A few of the bugs were holding desperately to the craft, too afraid to deal with what may lie below, while others simply lay off to the side, unwilling to deal with the newest interruption. Soft petals descended from the basket, carrying along with them grey spider webs, hindering their travels with each second passed.

Inside the basket were pink and purple flowers, all of which carried a magnificent radiance nothing else in the room held. Dark, abysmal strokes mirrored the reflections for which the flowers were supposed to hold. Light carried away from the tenebrous shadows seemingly waiting for the another failed drawing to come before it. It was impossible for the other creations to compete with it, and even as she turned, staring at the other trash, she felt drawn to the room at an instant. She forgot about her initial boredom.

The back of her fingers carefully caressed the lone blossoms. The style was hopeful, happy, thoughtlessly reckless in every possible way. Though the lines were neat, within the shades she saw something different, something that didn't at all fit with what she wanted to believe. It was cold, cruel, and when she squinted, she saw a flurry of disorganized lines flying away from the peaceful, golden cores, and even when she attempted to block out the frustrated, agonizing sketches, they were still there, ready and waiting to be noticed once again.

Megumi stood there and stared at it for a while.

For one reason or another, the display reminded her of Haru, who never even visited her once, in the midst of this mess.


	53. Chapter 53

Akira squirmed in his seat, all the while trying to make himself seem professional and sophisticated, like those cops Mr. Yuuki was always watching on TV. He straightened then, and gulped down a large puff of air, sticking out his scrawny, almost emaciated chest without the slightest weakest shown, though in the end the efforts proved worthless. Still, Akira couldn't help but be a bit proud of himself. After all, he did get a bit of muscle this year, and he grew taller; if anything, he could actually be the tallest person in his class, with the exception of Sasaki-sensei, who'd snub the fact in his face every time he walked into the classroom. His voice was getting deeper too, so it won't be long before he could actually call himself a man.

The fact that Toma was still in high school didn't bothered him one bit. He was around the same age as Natsuno when he fought against the okiagari, and in a way, they both exhibited that same, charismatic coolness everyone was drawn to. They were both really cool, and they saw how useful Akira was in all of this, from handiwork to even simply relaying back a story. Of course, Natsuno had to bail the last second, but nothing's gonna happen this time, or at least, he hoped nothing would go awry. Who knows? Maybe when this was all over, he and Toma could work together to bring other criminals to rest. They might even be a crime fighting duo, with Mori-san as the assistant, and Kaori as the damsel in distress. He did say he knew her after all.

The boy suddenly laughed to himself. Now _that _was a wayward dream. The stuff that went on in Sotoba absolutely terrified him; he would have nightmares once, twice, three times a week, dreaming about his parents, or the old guy from the shed, or even Megumi. He was never going back to that world again, and the only reason he made an exception of that rule now was because of Mr. Saito. He was discouraged by those illusions, but no so much that he would avoid the subject altogether, should the need arise.

He heard quiet footsteps echoing down the hallway, and through the door, a silent silhouette carried Toma, his presence indulged with confidence and hopefulness. He had three huge manilla folders in his arms, with an official-looking pen that seemed to tie the whole appearance together. There was a serious frown on his face, though his amiable eyes managed to cam Akira down. He set himself directly across from the boy. "You ready?"

Akira nodded. "Yeah."

Toma placed two of the files aside, and opened the third one in front of the boy, revealing the dreaded images detailing the aftermath of the Purge. Wide eyed corpses gazed back at the two, with piercing, white fangs slowly taking up the failing, black gums that were decomposing faster than the bodies themselves. White corneas were seemingly being pushed away by blood, which was leaking out from beneath the sockets, the veins slowly being gorged out by maggots and worms, an unfortunate side effect from not being stuffed in a body bag. Faces mangled, limbs dismembered, and even when Akira would look away, he knew the stakes were still there, still impaled in their hearts. It'd only been a few seconds and already the boy was sick to his stomach.

"Don't look away," Toma warned then, as he closed the file. "They look familiar?"

"Y-yeah…" he managed. "I don't think I recognize anyone in those photos though."

"It's fine. I didn't want you to anyways. Here," he said then, opening up another file and pulling out the death certificates for the residents of the village. He laid it in front of Akira, the signature _Toshio Ozaki _flourished in its elegant calligraphy. "Do you recognize any of these faces?"

"Were they the ones in the photos?"

"No."

Akira blinked, then leaned over, his thumbnail nearing the edge of the table. "Yeah, I know them."

"What were they like?"

"They were a couple of old folks. They would always just sit around and gossip while everyone else was working really hard. They were always a bit annoying though," he concluded, as he sank back in his seat.

"I see. Well, they were at their limits anyways." His thumbnail slid down to the signature at the bottom. "What about him? Know a guy like him?"

"He was the village doctor. He was the one that checked them to see if they were really dead. He was always right."

Toma odder sympathetically. "So what about them?"

Again, he laid out two photographs across from him. One was a blond woman, who'd look like she'd been crying her eyes out, tears mixed with blood in that deep chasm of darkness. An expression of utter horror adorned her face, and from the looks of things, it seemed she was begging for her life, however wrongful her sins may have been. Another was a man who had pale blue hair, all scattered along the edge of the flames. He had a little, resigned smile on his face. Unlike the woman's his eyes were closed, and the judgement passed was all the less violent, though humility grazed his features so readily. His features were so peaceful it took a while for Akira to see the bullet hole in his head.

But he recognized them.

"Yeah, I know them," he muttered angrily. "The Kirishikis."

Toma narrowed his eyes. "Can you tell me about them?"

"They're the reason behind all of this. They did a lot of this crazy stuff, and they got our entire village involved. If anything, they're the only ones who should be dead."

Toma leaned over. "I need you to clarify a bit please. What'd you mean by that? What sort of mess?"

He clutched his knees tightly, and before long, he found himself confessing a an unrealistic secret he wished would just go away. "It was…it was okiagari."

He blinked. "Okiagari?"

"I'm telling you it was them!" Akira shouted then. "First they killed my sister's friend, Megumi! Then they started killing off the villagers one by one. They turned everyone into monsters and-!"

"Slow down Akira," Toma urged calmly, "and start from the beginning. So they were killing everyone-"

"That's right."

"-and _then _turned them into monsters?"

Akira clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. He remembered that night, when they dug up Megumi's grave. There was a guy attacked Kaori, a guy who was already dead to begin with, a guy who they managed to bury, all the while trying to convince themselves that they hadn't just killed that person. Their fears were unfounded, unfortunately, and he rose up later the next night. The grave they desecrated firmly confirmed that aspect. "I know it's hard to believe. But it's all real. It's there-"

"Don't worry; I believe you."

Akira stared up. "Huh?"

"I mean, it explains a lot actually. So tell me," he continued, "what did these okiagari do anyways? How did they turn people into monsters?"

This was it. _This was it. _Akira took a deep breath. "Well…they would have these insect bites on their neck, right around here." He explained, his hand moving toward the vicinity of his throat. "But they could also appear anywhere else on the body, so it's really hard to keep track of."

"Go on."

"They would also lose a lot of blood, or at least, that's what I've heard from the doctor anyways. No, I'm positive. Even at the funeral, the mourners all say they died from blood loss. Where I come from, we don't cremate the bodies; we bury them. So at night, when no one's watching, they would usually just rise up."

"So…they drink blood then?"

"Yeah."

"I see." Toma murmured. "And what did the okiagari look like? How'd they behave?"

"Well…" Akira began, scratching the back of his head, as he tried recalling old suspicions from long ago. "I guess they acted like normal people. I used to have this friend, and he says that they can't come in unless you invite them inside. You can kill them by stabbing them in the heart, and you can ward them off with crosses and other stuff like that. From what the other villagers say, the okiagari can't stand sunlight. I think they sleep in coffins, and-"

"Of course." he interrupted. He sighed after a few moments of tension. "Sounds like you've got a pretty good friend."

"Yeah…he died, when the village burned down."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Toma gave a reassuring smile. "Can you tell me more about your friend? His name maybe?"

"S-sure. Natsuno Yuuki."

"Right. And you also mentioned Megumi. Was she your friend too?"

"O-of course!" Akira answered automatically, even before he could catch himself. "She was…we were all friends. She was the one who'd get us out of trouble with the adults…"

"Do you miss them?"

"I do."

* * *

Haru stood in front of the door, in that morning light. His arms hung lifelessly to his side, his wet hair clinging to his neck, the his bright puffy cheeks standing out in winter's dead air. He kept rubbing his hands nervously against his blue jeans, his new, thin velvet sweater clinging anxiously to his skin. A leather bracelet clung to his wrist, with a tiny black thread desperately hanging to the brown, the meaningless battle all the more providing for the chaotic predicament ahead.

He would start toward the door, but then stop himself, not knowing what awkwardness would greet him. Would she be mad? Happy? Did she even want him in her life at all? A million emotions raced through the boy's mind, as he went through the multiple, unrealistic scenarios already grazing his mind, which, of course, caused his nervousness to skyrocket.

He kept staring out the window of the fancy apartment, the long, heavy, green curtains draping their finery across the glass. Potted plants decorated each corner, leaving no space left abandoned. Wooden floors scraped across his sneakers, rejecting whatever muck he had to bring in with him, while callously reflecting his own face up at him, revealing that scared little boy trapped in the woods. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the soaring, elegant arches that supported the building was so high, so majestic it made Haru's apartment look like a dump. People with a certain air of prestige would walk pass him, haughtily turned to their phones as they sorted out their newest transactions, business deals, vacation plans, whatever the wealthy had in mind. The strangeness of it all made Haru feel more out of place than he already was.

Kaori's words, however, rang from the back of his mind, and though it was, at best, minimal, the support gave Haru the confidence he needed to, at the very least, talk with them. Knowing Natsuno, he was probably in there right now, hiding away from the torrential nightmares that Toma put him through, if only to catch up on his sleep. And Megumi was probably working her butt off right now too, trying to stay on top of everything, all the while resisting the temptation to cave into her crimson desires. From what Murakami tells him, it seems the company's found a real gem this time. He was happy for her, happy that she hadn't let the opportunity to go to waste.

It was that little hope he immediately gorged himself in, a brief bliss in darkness where he could pretend that they were still human, however worthless the delusion was. And, as much as he hated it, it was working. So he took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

When it swung open, he'd forgotten how beautiful Megumi was.

She wasn't wearing her ponytails as she normally would. Rather, her hair was down, the strands held together by a black skull ribbon attached to the right. She wore a graceful, black dress, with the hem descending all the way to the floor, giving no room for his eyes to wander about. A dark gold mini-jacket covered her bare shoulders, and even from the mature design he could see a bit of the flare peek out from her outfit, her see-through, black rose glove hugging her left arm. That wild light which usually came with her eyes, however, was gone, replaced by a domesticated dullness that Haru found a bit odd. Nonetheless, he found himself speechless, in awe of the successful designer.

It didn't take her long to shatter that awe.

Her cold fingers grabbed his cheeks then, and pinched them. _"Where were you?" _she whispered angrily. "What the _hell _took you so long?"

His lips were stretched wide, and though he had trouble speaking, he was still very grateful. Both hands came around her wrist, and after a few more moments of struggling, he managed to pry her away. "I'm…I'm really sorry," he said sheepishly. "Can I come-?"

She cuffed him by his collar and dragged him inside.

He chuckled at her display of affection, and turned away when she shut the door, a slight blush coming across his cheeks. He had a hard time moving his eyes away from the ground, and he kicked himself for standing there like an idiot. Was he's actually going to act like _this? _Shouldn't he be doing some romantic gesture, something a Prince Charming would do, like sweep her off her feet (she'd probably kill him) or give her with a dozen roses (she'd still probably kill him) or kiss her cooly on the cheek (she'd maim him)? Should he have brought something? What was he supposed to be doing at a time like this?

But as Megumi made her way back to Haru, he couldn't help but take note of the room he was in, a studio apartment, he realized, with an inside balcony on the upper floor. He blinked, as he looks around the unrecognizable space. That old, beat up couch was still there, along with the piles of blankets tossed messily to the side. That mirror was there as well, leaning against the wall, as well as that ornate table, though rather than stern police reports, sketches and rough outlines kept themselves scattered about, the frustrated lines made more humorous for him to look at. The curtains were lovely as always, their crimson shades blocking out the unnecessary light from which the destructive rays would gloat. There was a bookshelf to the left of the desk, so that was new, even more so since the shelves were all empty. Fabric seams were still all over the place, with large posters of dresses and slacks detailed for the next spoiled, celebrity model. It was emptier than that beautiful, old building. But aside from that, nothing changed.

And in that moment, he relaxed.

Haru turned to Megumi, and laughed. "What? Run out of money already?"

"Shut it," she replied back, taking her place back over to the table. She smiled then, her finger slowly pointing toward the lump on the couch. "Yuuki's sleeping right now."

He soon followed her over to the table, an uneasy relief settling near his chest. "So you're finally getting along, huh?"

"Through unfortunate circumstances, but yeah."

The conversation flowed smoothly between the two. It was like no time had passed at all, and the lie that was cruelly broken was mended within that instant. She laughed lightly at his current exploits, laughed at a world he made up for himself, while he did the same for her. He never told her about Kaori, of course, nor did he mention any word of Virgil Fawn, who tampered with the delicate reality he relied on. The temptation was there, the confrontation, along with a shadow that kept urging him to relinquish his insanity, doing whatever it could to try and break apart the merciless facade, though he never listened. The act of playing pretend was always an escape, though it may be temporary, and he wasn't at all ready to let go of such a feeble, fickle thing yet.

Haru shifted his weight, and leaned against the couch. "I went to that fashion show. It was really cool, you know…without the whole cops thing."

"Yeah, sorry about that by the way. But apparently, my boss thought so too. He ended my internship early, so now he's actually paying me to design for him."

Haru's eyes widened. "That's great. You think you'll make it?"

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "Some of the more experienced designers seem…really off, about their outlines. I'm just trying to fix them at the moment."

"I see. So…you gonna go big?"

Megumi shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe." She leaned against the table, her arms folded inward, an unreadable expression crossing her face. "I never would've thought I'd end up doing this for a living."

"You're doing great." Haru urged, an excited smile spreading across his lips. "Everyone at school keeps saying how awesome you are. The student council was actually wondering if you could take the time to design some dresses for an upcoming dance in the spring."

She groaned. "Don't they have stores for that? And besides, how many girls are in your school anyways? No, don't answer that." she added when she saw both his hands counting however many imaginary faces that made it into his mind, about half of which he would forget later. "By the way, Yuuki's getting a little worried.

Haru stiffened, but he relaxed a split second later. "Yeah, tell him I'm sorry about that. A lot's been happening lately, and I needed to catch up on school work."

"Oh? Did something happen?"

He pretended to think, before shaking his head. "Nothing to worry about. It's already resolved, so I'll make it up to him later."

"Or you could do it now. I mean he's right _there…" _

Haru narrowed his eyes, though the playful atmosphere was still in sight. "The last time I woke him up he nearly killed me…"

"Where was this?" she asked half-jokingly.

He sighed, reminiscing on the somewhat painful memory. "It was in that cafe we always hang out at." he explained then. "Natsuno was just waiting at the table, and I was buying a muffin, right? I just tap his shoulder, and suddenly the guy wakes up, smashes my face, and chokes me with my own muffin! I mean, how crazy is that?"

Megumi blinked.

Obviously, very crazy.

So he continued. "Apparently, he was dreaming about being chased by some killer vampire rabbit. He was running through a haunted house, and by the time it got to him, he woke up. I guess he thought I was the little bastard or something." The moments were precious, and if he could recall correctly, around half the employees were laughing by the end of the day…after they wiped the bloodstains off the table. It was perhaps one of the very few times he was actually mad at Natsuno, aside from his apparent stubbornness of doing anything remotely fun.

The girl bit her lip. "You two really are a sight for sore eyes."

"You really think he'll be alright?"

"I don't know. I mean, Yuuki will be mad at first, but I suppose it's natural. You're both friends, right? It's not a problem," she assured.

"I…hope so."

"But, just out of curiosity…do you remember what you were wearing that day?"

"It was a prank." he answered, surprised by her sudden interest. "A couple of kids from my school got together and glued bunny ears to my hair."

"That's right!" she pleasantly said. "You got lumps of hair all over my floor."

* * *

Author's Note:

Bunnicula was a very interesting book.


	54. Chapter 54

"I see," Toma whispered softly, as he reached over and grabbed another folder from the side. "They sound like wonderful people."

"Y-yeah." the boy murmured then, uncomfortable writhing his fingers from one hand to the next. "They were."

Toma then withdraws two photographs from the file. He places them in front of Akira, the two figures jolting the boy's memory. He looks hard at their faces, and at that moment, his pupils never left their tranquil expressions. His brain begins rewinding itself, days, weeks, months, all of which meant little along morality's strict timeline. Emotions that were already slipping away from his closely guarded mindset grew more torrential, to the point where everything revealed their agonizing struggles. "So can you tell me about your friends?"

Akira blinked, the tension building from within his muscles. He took a deep breath, and calmed himself. "They're dead."

"Yes, I know they died. I'm asking you what they were like when they were still _alive_."

The boy narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to know about that? I mean, shouldn't you focus more on the people who survived?"

"I am."

"Huh?"

Toma stares at the two with a serious frown. His fingers kept tapping the white outlines of the photographs, his dark corneas examining every hidden emotion both Natsuno and Megumi brushed aside. He bites his lip, and seemed a bit reluctant to continue on. However, he pushed his doubts away, and, from Akira's standpoint, continued to trust the boy's maturity to lead the investigation. "There are still a couple of bodies police are trying to identify, but the number of casualties we've gotten is around 1300. However, so far none of the evidence we've gathered from Sotoba matches their DNA specifically. Also, a few people actually came out and said they've seen these two walking around at night."

"The whole mountainside burned to the ground," Akira said stubbornly. "I don't think either Megumi or Natsuno made it out alive."

"No place to hide, right?"

"Right!" Akira's eyes fell back to the pictures, at his friends' faces, before resolution settled in his mind. "They'd never do something like that. They aren't killers."

"You've got a lot of faith in them."

"Besides," he continued, "how could they do anything? Once you're dead, you're dead."

Toma cocked his head. "You've seen their bodies?"

"No, but the other villagers were talking about it…"

His voice faltered, recalling the gruesome, horrific conversations the village men delved in. He remembered clearly the stakes in their hands, their killing intent glistening throughout the darkness. He could still see every single smile that crossed their faces, every little cheer they made when one of those monsters were killed. Obsessed with tradition, devoted only to their civilization's mindset, they played by their own rules, eliminating whoever stood in their way, while the paranoia clawed through their souls. Akira, unfortunately, was one of the many who became swept in those unstable emotions.

He straightened then. "I know they're dead. Those people probably just got them confused with someone else."

Toma smirked. "So what would happen if they _were_ alive in the end? What would you do if you found out they were the serial killers?"

That immature sense of justice found its way to the boy's heart, and as he reminisced on his past days with Megumi, his brief but fierce moments with Natsuno, he hardened his will. "I don't think they'd want to live like that," he answered. "I think they'd rather die."

"You'd be the one to execute them?"

Akira clenched his fists, and gulped. But before he could answer, Toma held up his hand, stopping him altogether. "Sorry, I got a little carried away. Your story was just so fascinating, I guess I got caught up in all of it."

The boy relaxed, unaware of how uncomfortable he was during those moments. "N-no, it's alright."

"Let's get back to the subject then," he requested, as he grabbed the photographs hastily. He shoved them back into the folder, then placed his elbows on the table, his analytical smile returning to the interrogation. Akira's gaze lingered upon that folder for a while, but somehow, he managed to tear himself away it, and proceeded with the peculiar session. "The okiagari. That's what you called them?"

"Y-yes."

"Have they always been there?"

"No," he answered. "Like I said, the Kirishikis started the whole thing."

"So they moved in?"

"Yeah. They lived in a really big house. It looked so gloomy and sad, and everyone kept talking about how weird they were. I've never seen them before, but a lot of the neighbors did."

"What made you think they were behind the incident?"

"Because before they arrived, everyone was fine," he said confidently. "When they came, people started dying left and right. At first, we all thought it was just some summer cold, but when even healthy people started getting sick, the villagers started wondering what was going on. It's not like we've got some fatal disease or anything, so-"

"You used the Kirishikis as scapegoats, right?"

Akira shook his head. "I didn't."

"Then how did-?"

"The adults say Dr. Ozaki found out about it," he answered. "He managed to figure out everything about them, right before the village burned down."

"Huh," Toma murmured, writing the fact down on the folder before returning to the conversation. Akira stared at the elegant handwriting, the ink trailing across the light background. "If I asked your sister this, would she say the same thing?"

"Definitely."

"So the Kirishikis died, correct?"

"It's true."

"I still don't get it Akira," Toma said then. "We've got a theory now, but what does this have to do with the serial killer? You think something might've followed you out of the village?"

Akira balled his fists. What else could there be, really? So he nodded. "I'm not making this up."

"I know. You don't seem like a person who'd lie about stuff like this. You're a good kid, aren't you?"

Akira breathed a relieved sigh, that old spark of wonder coming back into his system. "I mean, someone had to know. Because we didn't tell anyone, Mr. Saito died-"

"It's not your fault. I doubt he'd believe you anyways. It's already hard enough to find the bad guys. Asking someone to believe your story is kind of like telling a person to fall off Mt. Fuji and guaranteeing they won't break a rib or two. You understand, right?"

"I…guess I do." He looked up. He didn't want to leave, but at the same time, Mori-san was probably starting to wonder where he was, Kaori too. "Is that it then?" he asked. "Should I just…?"

"Don't worry; we're done." Akira hid the disappointment from his face deftly as he stood. He slipped an arm into the sleeves and grabbed his scarf. "But before you go, I'd like to ask you one last question."

Akira instantly beamed brightly at his newfound friend. "What?" he asked, unable to conceal the smile from his face.

"Do you love Kaori?"

"Of course!" he answered happily, as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. "I mean, she's my sister! What kind of question is that? Wait…"

"It's nothing like that," Toma added calmly. "I was just curious. I mean, if you love someone, you're going to want to protect them, right?"

"That's right. You do whatever you have to to keep them safe." After all, she was probably the only one left, the only thing that tied Akira back to the peaceful life the two of them shared. It wasn't an arrangement he complained about, and though it was difficult now, in the end it'll be worth it. He just knew it.

"Correct. So just promise me this, alright? Aside from me and the police, you won't tell anyone else about the okiagari, alright? We don't want to freak anyone else out after all."

"Right."

* * *

Natsuno stared out the window, his arms to his side, his body leaning back against the dark, bloody curtains. The cool, icy air that was still embedded into his disposition, reflected off to the outside world without much hesitation, or delight for that matter. The silhouette which stemmed gracelessly from his frame kept careful track of the shadows around him, as the forlorn atmosphere continued on within the city streets, never once stopping to see the corruption within it. Far off lights danced along the tunes of noisy car engines, and cacophonous melodies erupted from the nearby red-light districts, all the while staving off the inevitable dread of morning's light. Even from here, he felt those careless vibrations, the howling wind pounding against the glass.

He scans the busy crowds, seeking out unrecognizable faces, delving, once again, in his usual, meticulous searching. He sees a family walking down below, with a child who was pointing upwards toward the skyscrapers, jubilantly asking who lived there, who worked there. There were a few police officers wandering about, ignoring the disgusted looks from their unusually hostile audience, as well as some teachers, all of whom were ready to throw away their careers if only for a single night of fun. Groups of teenagers shivered along the arctic breeze, and lovers were hounded by their beloveds into nearby stores, doing whatever they could to stay warm within the troubled moments. He could even make out a few of the yakuza, who were now aimlessly walking through the city, unsure of where they were supposed to be, what they were doing.

"Yuuki?"

Slowly, he lifted his gaze toward Shimizu, who was working on yet another design for a pressing deadline. A famous male idol in the UK requested it, so her boss decided to allow her to work on her own, despite the fact so many assistants were anxiously waiting to be picked up by the famed designer. She'd been complaining about the task long enough to make him, at the very least, memorize the cause of her headaches. "What is it?" he asked.

"Haru came by today." she answered, as she continued working on the sketches.

Once again, he turned his attention elsewhere. "I know."

"He wanted to apologize for not visiting. Apparently, he still had a lot of school work he had to do."

Natsuno remained silent for a bit, before smirking. "He never was a good liar, was he?"

"I suppose not," she chuckled painfully. He heard her put down one pen and pick up another, redrawing the exquisite sketch, the utmost care steadily balancing within her fingertips. "This is the second time he's done that, right?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged quietly, moving past his reflection to see the still dimly lit offices near the edge of the fashion district. Emotionlessly, he observed the procession of shadows dancing about the gray pavement, the white stripes glaring up at the onlookers as they walked on by, no cares in the world. "When he came in, he smelled a bit like Toma, didn't he?"

At that instant, the scratching stop. Natsuno felt Shimizu's eyes bore his back, the tense silence drawing in the two with its callous nature. A few minutes later, she turned away. "Do you remember the school fashion show, and that boy lying on the rooftop?"

"Do you still think Kaori's got something to do with this?" he asked. "From Ken's perspective, she's innocent."

Shimizu scoffed. "It was clear that boy was trying to kill her, and when I ran into Kaori that night, our Yuki was in on the game."

"Kaori came with Haru to that other show too, didn't she? An hour later, police squads rammed the tent and caused everything to crash and burn."

"I met Toma then."

Natsuno tore his gaze away from the window, and stared at Shimizu, who was coloring in her design, her back guarding her empty expressions.

That's right; she did, didn't she? And when he finally found her, she was already gouging out her own organs, the tears profusely cascading down her face. Perhaps her sudden interest in suicide afterwards was what surprised him the most, that feral creature reduced to a whimpering victim with nowhere else to hide. "Do you remember anything?" he found himself inquiring.

"A nightmare. I never got to thank you-"

"It's fine," he dismissed. "What was the nightmare about?"

"I don't remember all the details, but I saw Kaori there. Mom and dad too, and the rest of the villagers." she answered, as she set down her pencil to examine the artwork she created, the masterful piece lying before her happily. She stayed quiet for only a second, then picked up her eraser and tore away the sleeves.

He tilted his head a bit, his piercing orbs meeting the darkened hearth from afar, entranced by her monotonous tone. Yet at the same time, the shock came before him so easily, his own nightmare relaying from behind his shrouded sins. He closed his eyes for a moment, then stared at the curtains front of him, which took the form of tenebrous glass falling subtly from reality's edge. "I had that same dream."

"What'd you think of it?"

"It was a trial," he explained. "I remembered seeing Tooru there. He was the judge, but I don't think I ever got a sentence."

She set down her eraser then. Calmly, she placed both hands on the drawing and pushed it aside, and from the corner of his eyes, he caught her reflection gazing at the door. "I never got one either," she replied, the black returning to her eyes. "What was Tooru like anyways? Was he anything like Haru?"

He closed his eyes, weariness overcoming his thoughts then. "Where's this coming from?"

"I…he looked like him. That's all."

Neither hostility nor anger clouded her voice, and for some reason, Natsuno didn't hesitate on answering. He merely recalled those old, broken ties he had with his friend, the significant hours spent with him wearily replaying within the contents of his mind.

"He wasn't anything like him," he said inexpressively, albeit the twinge of remorse left remaining on his tongue. "Everyone liked him. He was my best friend, so we hung out a lot."

"…I see."

Natsuno kept on, the pale moonlight staring him down. "He wasn't broken. He was always friendly, someone you could easily open up to. Whenever you were in trouble, you could always count on him to be there, no matter how annoyed or upset you are. He cared about his friends and family."

He smiled at the memory, and though that demonic ghoul remained attached, Natsuno didn't allow it to discourage what little contentment he had left towards the village. "He had a crush on Ritsuko. She was a nurse who worked at Dr. Ozaki's clinic."

"He liked someone?"

"That's right. He was too scared to ask her out, since she was older, so he wanted me to go with him." His voice faltered, remembering the board that carried the two shikis, the resignation both had on their faces. It was an informal goodbye, one that couldn't satisfy that faraway dream Tooru had in mind. "He was always a bit of an idiot, but he was good."

Again, the quiet came between the two. Natsuno stared out into the city, the background changing with each swing the pendulum carried. Different people came out of different restaurants, with a variety of stories from which their memories depended on. Scratches of color filled the silence, but before long, even that too faded.

"He sounds nice." she said silently.

"He was."

"So what about now?" Shimizu asked. "What about Haru and Kaori? And everyone else who survived? Would they feel the same way?"

"I doubt it," he chuckled emptily. "Sotoba's a cancer everyone wants to forget, a horror story no one wants to see. In the end, it'll fade out of existence; it'll take along with it those precious traditions, and dig its own grave."

"A backwoods village. That's all that place will ever be, I guess."

Natsuno flickered his eyes toward the shiki. He pushed himself away from the wall then, his attention carefully trained on her, a trace of mourning entwined within the backbone of her words. "You don't mean that."

"Yuuki, everything I've done I've done to get _away _from that place," she stated bitterly. " I hate Kaori because she represented everything I hated about Sotoba. I followed the Kirishikis because I wanted to survive, and somehow make it to the big city. Even before that, I had this ridiculous goal in mind about being scouted and then spending all my time in night clubs. And the dresses here?" she continues, shoving up the crumpled papers in her hand. "Whenever I dress up, everyone would just laugh at me for it. I hated them. I hated them so much and I was happy when they were all dead."

_I'm sorry. _

That very phrase echoed from the depths of his mind, as did her frightened guilt, her own, projected fears instilling themselves within that deep, dark chasm they both called sanity. He could recall her shame, the desperation everything she could possibly have thought of, if only for a bit more time to remain in that comfortable abyss. Crying, pleading, demanding she be spared from the pain of judgement, but in the end, no one heeded her prayers. And he couldn't help but wonder a bit, asking himself the same, sinful question, the hedonistic freedom of humanity knocking at their doors.

_It's not my fault. _

Slowly, he made his way toward her, his footsteps a steady rhythm, differing so very sharply from the now dying car honks. He leaned over,catching a glimpse of the latest design.

"The cross should go on the waist."

Shimizu blinked, looking down at her paper. "What?"

"The cross should go on the waist." Natsuno repeated, as he set himself next to her.

Wordlessly, she corrected the mistake.


	55. Chapter 55

Banners were decorated high along the walls, the evening light shining through the atrium windows like so. Ornaments which reflected across the colorful customers were dangling from stores, tempting whomever was immature enough to come inside the warm rooms. Tiny, delicate candy cane stickers hung to the potted plants near the entrances, the cool tiles their own crimson blush for the bashful stampede about to take place in a few days. Golden streams of ribbon kept gazing down lovingly at the crowds below, tiny sprinkles falling off the steel railings. Garlands swung from one corner to the next, masking a fairytale ballroom where even the adults seemed to enjoy stranger's company, the pleasurable atmosphere alone enough to take in the stunning views the mall catered to.

Kaori wandered through the stores, the glistening products indulging her eyesight more than once. She swept through the wooden shelves, her fingers aimlessly tracing the patterns of clothes, plates, stickers. Her dark eyes kept searching through the insignificant seams of sales and plastered smiles from the empty employees at hand, who were trying to draw her into yet another meaningless deal. She did catch sight of a couple of her classmates, though a majority of the time they would try and approach her, if only for a bit of smalltalk. However, she would always have to pry herself away from them later on, doing whatever she could to lose them without arousing suspicion.

She bit her lip, and turned toward the grand clock hanging from the middle of the ceiling. The golden needles brimmed through the green fluorescent lights. Victorian needles pointed toward the Roman Numerals, and before long, she spun her heel and went back to her pathetic search. She had over an hour left.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. A brief flash of annoyance came across her face, and quickly, she turned, only to find Yasuhiko-san standing there, that warm smile planted on his face. "Hey," he said kindly. "You shopping too?"

She nodded mutely, before sighing then, revealing her defeated demeanor from her once hopeful trip. "I can't find anything."

"That's not true," he pointed out helpfully. "You've found the clock, at least."

Kaori slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "I'm serious! It's weird…usually, I don't have any trouble with stuff like this."

Yasuhiko-san stared at for a little while, the confused realization etched within his face. "You're probably just adjusting to it is all. It's not every day you see a mall _this_ crowded. What'd you need anyways?"

"Well," she started, as the two began walking down the rows of columns ahead, the bright, tinkering Christmas trees seemingly mocking her so happily, so much so she winced slightly. "I'm actually here for presents." She held out her hand, counting down the names that kept troubling her with their abounding pressure. "There's my little brother, then Mr. Yuuki, then Ken-"

He blinked. "Since when were you two friends?"

She felt her face heat up, and hastily, she turned away. "I…I just feel sorry for him is all. He's going to spend Christmas alone right? So I figured-"

"Still…didn't think you'd go that far." He whistled then, as he leaned toward her. "What? You planning on buying him mistletoe? If you want, there's a stand on the second floor-"

Much to her dismay, he drew closer and closer, his lips in full view. Kaori gripped her back tightly, as she shook her head vigorously, trying to get all the ugly thoughts out from her brain. She pushed his chest away with one hand, while covering her mouth with the other, her purse dangling along her elbows.

He stared at her confusingly. "What? Are you really that embarrassed?" he asked, that same, mocking grin spreading across his face.

When she didn't answer, he grabbed her wrist. "_Are you serious_? You really like him?" he laughed. "I didn't think you'd go for a guy like that! Nope! Never thought you'd be _that _type of girl!"

She winced, the blush still very much on her face, as she pried his fingers away from her. "I'm not!" she shouted, firmly planting his squirming hand to his side. "And I'm _not _in love with Ken. He's just a really good friend is all."

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure."

"Shut it."

"No need to get so defensive either. Anyways, who else was on the list? Mr. Yuuki, Akira, the famed Ken-kun…"

She closed her eyes then. Her mind searched through the contents of her memories, drowning out whatever horrid memories she had of the fashion show. She bit her lip. "And Miyuki-san, of course."

Yasuhiko-san, this time, was a bit taken back by the proposal.

The sudden silence surprised her a bit, but she brushed it aside in favor of their old, happy conversation. It wasn't long before Kaori turned to him, a sheepish expression grazing her features. "Yeah, it _is_ a little embarrassing," she laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. "But I'm visiting her tomorrow, and she's your friend too, isn't she? It's…it's not like I'm asking for any special favors…or anything…"

"Y-yeah," he managed, turning back toward the path before them. "I think she'd appreciate it."

Kaori turned toward Yasuhiko-san, his passive face emotionlessly taking in his surroundings then. She bit her tongue then, and mentally kicked herself for saying such a troublesome thing, though she had no idea what that thing was. She peered toward him, and then tried again. "Well, we're at that stupid store anyways," she chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and pulling him to a halt. Seemingly shocked, he looked back toward her, his lips slightly parted. "Since you invited yourself along, you have to help me pick out a gift for her."

A soft shadow of minutes passed came back, and he looked up then. To her surprise, a tiny blush flashed across his face. "Kaori…are you sure?"

"I mean, you know her, right?"

"Y-yeah…but this is a little…"

"Why? What's the matter?" she asked aimlessly, cocking her head a tiny bit.

"For one thing, we're in front of Studio Five…"

"Huh?" She spun her heel, and found herself staring at a poster of a half-naked model, who was wearing blue bra. Blond hair was splayed all over the white background, with a tiny, yet noticeably naughty smile tugging at her lips.

She stared at it for a moment, before turning back, meeting Yasuhiko-san's, once again, astonished face. He was so close her blush returned once again, so she shifted her gaze elsewhere. Of all the humiliating, embarrassing things she had to do today, why this? She took a deep breath, and attempted to bow, followed by an "I'm so sorry!" that was blubbering up to her lips.

She felt both his hands on her shoulders. He straightened her, to her amazement, and Kaori couldn't help but stare at his unreadable expression. She couldn't help but wonder what hideous insults were racing through his mind right now, what perverted actions he was contemplating on doing.

Finally, he smiled. "Don't worry. I'll support you."

"W-wait…huh?"

"I didn't think you swung that way either, you know?" he asked jubilantly, stroking the crown of her head affectionately. "But I'm still a little confused. Why didn't you say anything before? I wouldn't have made fun of you for it."

She blinked. "W-what are you-?"

He scrutinized her face. "What are you talking about? You're bi, right?"

The confrontation ended with a resounding, "What?"

* * *

Megumi shoves through the head shots, wordlessly tossing many of them aside if only for a glimpse of some handsome prince dangling on the edge of obscurity. She rubbed her eyes wearily, then continued on with her burdensome, daunting task, relaying to herself the events for why she was enduring such a gruesome punishment to begin with.

This morning, when Yuuki arrived, he found an incredibly big, cardboard box just sitting by the door. When they opened it, the resulting action was her shifting mindlessly through the many candidates, all of whom too normal or abnormal to fit the outfit. Apparently, the spoiled brat wasn't going to wear the outfit she made until he saw someone else go through the same process. He was trying to make sure the fabric wasn't poisoned or uncomfortable or big or whatever else came into the idiot's mind.

And of course, when she called him later, he relayed to her the exact same excuse mentioned above, along with a, "Your boss said it was okay to use your coworkers. Do it or I'm never calling you again, you damn _whore_."

By the time she turned around, Yuuki was gone.

Using the company's employees was an odd request however, but all the same, she had no choice to comply if she wanted her outfit to be worn. He was also a prized client, so no matter how much she wanted to strangle him, or maim him with the ax so helplessly sitting near the door, she couldn't do so without drawing negative attention to herself. Mr. Murakami seemed to be okay with it as well, though of course, as long as the strangeness paralleled with his standards, anything was alright with it. Besides which, the Sapporo Snow Festival was already nearing, and aside from that miserable kid, the company could find no other professional model whose schedules weren't already booked to do it.

Her thumb kept passing through the photos, some new designers that are already dreaming of a big shot career in modeling, others executive salespersons, who likewise carried that impossible illusion. She even saw Ms. Osaka's picture here, though the woman was so obviously unwilling to take something as revealing as this, equaling such a disgrace to that of a mug shot for the whole world to see. It may be an overreaction, but a humorous one nonetheless. Who knows? Perhaps Megumi would her to do it and unveil the newest clothing line. Maybe they could boost old people sales?

She laughed to herself, and continued looking. It was strange, how all the executives here bore such an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Murakami. They all had the same, icy blue veins emphasized so clearly along their pale flesh. They all bore an emaciated look that reached down to their collarbones, the same dead eyes for which she couldn't help but find a bit disturbing. No one looked directly at the camera; in fact a few had cross eyed faces, with childish gestures Megumi neither found amusing nor funny.

Their appearances contrasted so very greatly to the adults back in Sotoba, to the partygoers in the nightclubs, and even to the corpselike adults she would see wandering through the streets. Though there was a humanlike quality to them, all the same, she pondered on their business culture, on their absolutist way of thinking in regards to imagination and creativity.

She sighed then, shoving away their photos. They probably sent those creatures in as a joke. It might've been just a little a tiny prank to try and lighten the mood, though her attitude progressively got worse from seeing them. She rubbed her temples, pondering on if she should just find another company to work for, or if she should just start her own brand in the UK. And yet again, another smile stretched on her face, as she kept on searching through the photos. She knew full well what she was going to see when she came to London, to that brat's domain without his permission. Staring out at the same background for so long it was beginning to grow so very tiresome, to add to her list of complaints.

She reached over and pulled the box toward her, grabbing the last of the photos with a single hand, a relieved sigh happily dancing on her lips.

That smile faded when she saw the faces of Amber Fawn, Tsutomu Miyazaki, and Miyuki Ishikawa hidden at the bottom.

* * *

The tall, foreboding buildings housed tiny, sheltered lights that kept its silhouettes moving busily, doing whatever they could to finish early, if only for the holidays. Colorful decorations pierced the night skies, giving rise to an early calm that otherwise wouldn't have existed so very late in the year. Lanterns standing outside of those edifices gave off a very lonely, albeit content, light, for which children would come and wait for their parents or friends to come keep them company. A few would play around the professional airs altogether, sliding down the steps with cardboard slays, never minding the winter's harsh force slamming against their tiny bodies. They would carry those icy snowballs in their tiny arms, using their scarfs as slingshots for yet another weapon against the pretend enemy.

Haru walked through the empty park alone, his hands shoved in his pockets, as he observed nature's shadows dancing to the sounds of a moonless night. Bright giggles passed him so, the conversations ranging from lost lovers to precious, deceased family members, to even a reunion with a long lost friend, from which he carried on with his business. A tiny frown adorned his lips, with heavy eyes that marked the turbulence of yet another storm. His footsteps reflected through the still wet streets, the marketplaces filled with last minute bargains for the finality that otherwise would have no particular value in the next year.

He stopped then, narrowly dodging a flying snowball that could very well have decapitated him. Slowly, he turned to the children playing nearby, all of whom stared down apologetically. Still, he smiled then, before continuing his way, never bothering to say a word to them, at least.

"Toma."

"You're a very cruel person, Yasuhiko-sama," the jinrou asked, stretching his arms toward the skies. "How long do you intend on deceiving that girl?"

"That's none of your concern," Haru dismissed, callously walking away from Toma, eyes staring blankly at the emptiness in front of him. He heard the boy then following behind him, a grim, solemn smile upon his face. Silence continued for a while, before Toma sighed then, his eyes boring Haru's back. "Are you really going back there?"

"I am. Kaori said she was coming tomorrow."

Toma stiffened. "You know, the girl has a brother."

"I know. I've seen him."

"He cares for them as well."

"Which is why I'm doing this. But frankly, I'm glad you brought up the subject." He twisted his heel, turning toward the shiki with a piercing glare. "I'd prefer you stay away from the Tanakas, or the school, for that matter. You're not that bastard's pet anymore."

"I was never anyone's pet," Toma shot back calmly. "But I _can_ understand how those two are feeling. Your morality chains, I mean."

Haru turned back, and continued walking. No sooner had the silence persisted did Toma start following him again. He sighed irritatingly. "What of it?" he demanded.

"Vampires are very much like humans, no matter what anyone else says," he explained. "Both have minds of their own. Both have _wills _of their own. It won't do much good if you keep pretending, both you and your friends."

He stopped then. "It doesn't matter. I know how to behave."

"You aren't Mutou though, are you?"

"That's true; I'm not." He stated. "From what I can tell, he's a lot crueler than how he makes himself out to be. If Megumi and Natsuno are suffering this bad, I can't help but wonder kind of monster he was."

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

He directed his annoyed gazed toward the shiki, who remained emotionless. He stared him down, the cold light returning to his eyes. "On second thought," he began, "I don't think I'll be going back to Sotoba tonight."

"Then what will you be doing, I ask?"


	56. Chapter 56

Kaori lingered near the front of the building, the looming shadow from the moonlight grazing over her eagerly, willingly. She clutched her coat, and along with it the present she'd been hoping to give to the mysterious designer. Warily, her pupils kept darting here and there, her mind never once coming away from her anxiety. She neither felt the howling wind, nor the brittle cold that so desperately attacked the stone's side, nor the humidity that wrapped itself so recklessly around everything else that existed. Darkness cornered her vision, and from then, she bit her lip, as she stood there, watching the orange sun disappear, the last traces of pink left in the sky. When even that disappeared, her eyes widened, and she pressed her hand against the glass, and opened the door.

The lobby was empty, for some odd reason. Columns protruded their elongated shadows along the metal window frames, the starlight shimmering ahead near the entrance. Spiraling stairwells came across the middle of the room, and potted plants draped their insignificance from across something as majestic as that. Crystallite chandeliers hung high above the ceilings, the see through balconies alone making it difficult for Kaori to move, the awe alone everlasting in her features.

Along the windows were posters of clothing, of brands the girl recognized from the start; _Feral, Haunted, Night, Monster. _Models were adorned with the same fashion she and Yasuhiko-san wore at the school talent show, and she couldn't help but feel a bit of pride in upstarting the designer's fashion career. Still, it was a vanity she'd rather do without, and no sooner had it entered her mind did it disappear altogether.

She walked toward the middle of the lobby. Yasuhiko-san said room 58, right? Fifth floor? She might be a bit busy, but there was nothing Kaori could do about it. "_You can wait there if you want,_" he said once.

She stared up at the spiraling interior, the models alone all seemingly glaring down at her with their cold, unwanted thoughts. She stared right back, and tried to imitate their own, frightening arrogance, only to stop short of meeting their expectations. She sighed then, as she walked toward the elevators, her mind wandering around the thick ebony.

Megumi kept revisiting her mind, her face echoing from beyond her thoughts. Corrupt beauty swarmed its venomous fangs around the girl, and with it, vengeful thoughts not even Kaori knew had existed. That slow, twisted smile continued to prod her mind, jabbing their already broken friendship with another eager stab. She was always so picky about her outfits, ever since they were little. She was constantly redressing herself, staring at the spoiled girl in front of the mirror without the slightest concern of the time she was wasting. Her rosette eyes were only on herself, the selfishness radiating from beyond her fragile frame. She kept telling Kaori every day she was going to become a big pop star when they were kids. She was going to do whatever she could to get out of the village, and though she never said it, when Kaori looked back, the disgust was still ringing from her voice, towards everyone in the village, towards Akira, and towards Kaori.

She tightened her grip on the bag. The elevator doors finally came down, and she climbed in, that one lone light shallowly guiding her through the midst of shadows. She stared down at the buttons for a bit, before pushing 5.

She held her breath as the elevator began rising, the smooth chains dragging her weight away from the spoiled earth. If Kaori was going to have any luck tonight, at the very least Miyuki-san should know something about Sotoba. Why else would she have designed the dresses the way she did? Everything about those patterns reminded her of the fire, of the okiagari. There was no way she could've just come up with it from her imagination. There had to be something more to it, something Kaori was not quite grasping.

She needed to know if that monster was still alive.

The elevator stopped, and slowly, Kaori walked out, the present still very much in her hands. Quietly, she observed the environment around her, before stepping down the hallway. Stray, dim lights from the tired designers shown onto the walls, their shadows busily scratching out the clothes for which not even the public would wear. From the corner of her eyes, she could make out beheaded mannequins who were wearing the latest spring fashions, the frilly dresses and sophisticated t-shirts descending away from the hem. Furious pins stabbed the outfits ridiculously, taking note of the frustrating, last minute changes to the designs.

When she walked past those rooms, she saw a corner that rounded off the hallway. On the edge of the sides were windows that allowed her to gaze out at the now lifeless city. There was a picture marring the macabre view however, a newspaper article, with the words, _Worthington does it again! _plastered all over the headlines. Kaori couldn't tell how the boy looked, since his face was angrily marked out by red and green pins, followed by two devil horns planted firmly to the side of his head. Kaori had to giggle then, as she walked up to the frame, feeling a tiny bit sorry for the UK idol.

From the rumors, he was a brat, and he would always come up with the most ridiculous of requests for the assistants to do, the orders ranging from licking the soles of his feet to stalking potential threats to his career. He was good no doubt, but probably the only reason why people even watch him is because of his talent and his looks; take that away and the audience wouldn't acknowledge him in this society. Even Yasuhiko-san found himself tired from the idol's constant, berating songs; he could only listen to Worthington for about thirty seconds, before shutting off the radio altogether.

She spun her heel and continued on her way, her nervousness relieved then. She passed french doors, the kind that let you see into the offices, and regular, plastic curtains, something she found a bit odd in a place as high classed as this. Golden plates hovered above the frames, their craved elegance calligraphy in Kaori's eyes. Even the numbers seemed fashionable here, not like the trash she etched out whenever an assignment was due.

Finally, she found herself at room 58.

The door wasn't like the others. It was brown, oak, and rather than glass it merely possessed a small, silver peephole. The handle was iron, and when Kaori gripped it, the bitter cold stung her palm, so much so she jerked away. She looked up again. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Hello?" she asked hesitantly. "Ms. Miyuki?"

There was no answer.

Kaori held herself apprehensively. She stood on her toes, and tried looking through the peephole. No one was coming by, and there was no eye to surprise her either. She came back down and knocked again. "Ms. Miyuki?"

Again, there was nothing.

Kaori bit the inside of her cheek, and once again, wrapped her hand around the handle. Her thumb pressed against the lock, and slowly, she opened the door. Surprise briefly flashed her face, replaced by a certain cautiousness for whatever the invisible veil hid from her. She leaned in, and peered inside.

Golden walls stared back at the callous deadness, while the bookshelves planted themselves against the window, blocking out the sunlight for which otherwise might've caused that same, simple dread Kaori so easily recognized. There was a desk at the front of the room, a big, wide one with papers scattered all over the surface. When she walked in, she could see the rough outlines of a sketch for yet what appears to be another outfit. A purple, velvet chair sat behind that desk, along with a small, white, peculiar door. Kaori left the gift near the door, as she strolled further in, her hands already collecting the age old dust. The floorboards creaked underneath her, and that archaic scent draped its lovelessness around the room.

Aside from the desk, and the chair, and the book shelf, there was no other furniture Miyuki-san seemed to have. If not for the sketches, Kaori would've taken this room to be abandoned, haunted, locked away by rumors and gossip, the false pretenses of the supernatural swirling around the front door. Well, if Miyuki-san was staying in a room like this, maybe she was a history buff? If that was the case, perhaps something as gruesome as Sotoba would've interested her. As for the bookshelf practically slammed against the window… Yasuhiko-san did say she was allergic to the sun. It'd be easier to design if she just worked from home, or if she pressed the bookshelf against the windows like that.

But all the same, Kaori couldn't help but feel a tiny bit relieved. She scratched the back of her head, and laughed awkwardly to herself. Maybe she was just hallucinating that night. People were running all over the place, and there was that police shooting…Mr. Saito's death added to her further repressed mind, and the way he'd been acting from before, the way he kept accusing her of doing something so horrible, so terrifying, must've put a very big burden on Kaori's heart. Coupled with the emotional stress from Yuki's death, as well as the bullying from her school, it was probably just some coping mechanism her brain came up with to deal with it all. She learned about it from Mr. Yuuki the other day.

Carefully, she tiptoed over to the present and left it on Miyuki-san's desk. Unfortunately, she can't wait for the designer. They were having a hotpot for dinner. Ken-kun said he was going to show up too, and if she didn't come home soon, it was going to be awkward for all of them, especially since Mori-san was joining the table. So she nodded contently, and began walking out of the room, her fears now settled.

She stopped when she felt those hot, heavy breaths down her back. She blinked, before spinning her heel and gazing around. There was no one there. Then she caught sight of a shadow from above.

And she looked up.

There was a creature entrenched onto the ceiling, its faceless expression gazing down at her with malice and envy. What seemed to be eyes underneath kept wandering around here and there, its frozen smile fixated on her with a hateful grimace underneath it. Loose stitches held together the arms for which the creature moved, with tiny drops of blood escaping from fatal wounds. Blue veins wrapped around its black heart, its skin revealing the depth for which the creature existed, its own internal systems almost completely absent. Its claws kept on growing, moving to the sounds of a silent dirge only Death could hear.

A scream built up in Kaori's throat. Her legs weren't moving, her body shaking, as she watched the creature slowly coming down toward the room. Her senses froze, and though every instinct told her to move, to run, to leap off the balconies if only to get to safety, she still stayed, watching the strange thing in agonizing horror.

When it screamed, she turned back, and ran.

* * *

Megumi crouched down near Mr. Murakami's filing cabinet, the three photos still in hand. Her eyes shifted from one picture to the next, all the while putting back candidates for which that spoiled idol would have to deal with later on. The man was behind her, busily writing away the business deals which resulted not only in national fame, but international pride as well.

She stood up, and walked in front of her boss, her confused stare very much intact. "Sir?" she asked. "I don't understand. What did you want me to do again?"

He never looked up at her, never gave her a sign that he was listening, save his answer. "Put all the models back into the cabinet, including those three."

She laughed nervously, as she placed the photos in front of Mr. Murakami. "Sir…I've never seen these employees before. They're all-"

"-located in another country," he finished easily.

She blinked then. "Mr. Murakami, my friend has a…hobby with detective work. As far as I'm concerned, they're all criminals that were put down years before." She narrowed her eyes. "I don't see how we can simply just add them onto Worthington's list, however appropriate it may seem."

The man never did give her any other reaction. "Ms. Miyuki, I would like for you to put those photos back. I'll send it to our little guest later."

"Wouldn't that ruin the company image though?" she countered. "This seems a bit harsh, even if it is just a prank."

The man kept writing. "They're all located in another country." he repeated aimlessly.

She shook her head. "No, they aren't. The resemblance is uncanny, and by now practically everyone in Japan knows them. Please, if you don't believe me, check the police files yourselves. My friend still has-"

"They're all located in another country."

"Sir, I'm telling you. They're-!"

A piercing scream echoed throughout the corridors.

And along with it, a familiar scent not even Megumi would welcome.

She paused, the shock dragging whatever words were still left in her mind. That was a woman's scream just now. That was a woman's scream, and that was Kaori's scent.

_That was Kaori's scent._

She turned back then, bringing herself around the desk and toward Mr. Murakami. What was she _doing here? _What could she _possibly _be _thinking? _Wasn't she supposed to be with her little brother tonight? And her other friends from school? What about the hotpot Haru kept telling her about?

She grabbed Mr. Murakami's arm and started dragging him upwards. When he refused to comply, she scowled. "Mr. Murakami!"

"They're all located in another country."

"I know that! Sir, we need to leave-!"

"They're all-"

She heard that dreadful crack, and all too soon did Megumi leap away from the chaos, was Mr. Murakami underneath the rubble. his eyes stared blankly out towards the girl, his pupils silently reclaiming whatever lie was left from the reality. No sooner had he done so did the monster on top of him begin gouging those same eyes out.

It was the same monster from before, the one from Fawn Industries.

* * *

Akira swung his legs to and from the table, his elbows nestled against the table, as he stared at the stranger from Kaori's school. Light brown hair covered his skull, and his golden skin kept the tiny boy watching him from afar, the same tone present in his classmates whenever they spent too much time at the beach. He was dressed in a black sweatshirt, his hood settled against his neck, and he wore torn, black jeans that matched perfectly with the styles everyone else was wearing. He had skull earrings enamored on the right side of his ear, and from the way he kept looking at everything, it seemed he a common criminal in Akira's eyes, a suspect among suspects.

Mori-san wasn't here yet, and Mr. Yuuki said he'll be working late again today, though they'll still be able to have the hotpot. Right now, Kaori wasn't picking up her cellphone either, and it was something that worried him. Ever since Mr. Yuuki bought the thing for her, she'd managed to pick up every single phone call or text Akira sent her. Now, however…

"Your folks still not back?" the man asked. Akira did all he could not to scowl then, and instead, turned his head away.

"They'll be back soon," he answered stubbornly.

"Okay, okay. No need to get so testy."

"My sister talks about you," Akira stated haughtily then, a concerned eyebrow raised. "You're Ken, right?"

He smirked back. "Yeah that's right. We're _friends." _

Akira scoffed. "No way," he muttered. "Whenever she talks about you, it's always stalker this, stalker that."

"She _invited _me."

"You _threatened _her."

Ken leaned against the chair then, steadying himself with two legs on the floor, while stabbing the innocent refrigerator behind him with the chair's frame. "Look," he spat. "We're friends, alright?"

He looks down, and closes his eyes, apparently giving up in frustration due to Kaori's sudden silence. "I like Yasuhiko-san better."

"That freak? Please, you don't like him."

"Kaori likes him, so I like him."

"She doesn't even know a single thing about the damn _monster_," Ken whispers then, stretching his arms and placing his hands behind his head. The action was irritating enough Akira gripped his knees tightly, resisting the urge to strangle the classmate. "You don't know him either!" he screams.

"I go to school with him. Of course I know him."

"Yeah…_right_."

Ken's eyes twitched with annoyance. He steadies the chair onto the floor, as he leans over across the table then. An irritated smile grazes his lips. "I know _everything _about the guy. I know all his dirt little secrets and-"

"_Yeah right," _Akira repeats, glaring daggers at the man.

"I do."

"No way."

"I actually do _kid."_

The boy kept shaking his head, that same, bored face resurfacing from the depths. He smacked his lips then, just to infuriate Ken. "You're a liar."

The argument lasted for hours on end, even when Mr. Yuuki and Mori-san made their way through the door.


	57. Chapter 57

She barreled through the office door, as Mr. Murakami's blood spilt so effortlessly from the ground. Her eyes frantically searched through the corridors, her legs taking the shiki as far away as they could possibly have gone. Dark silhouettes enchanted her eyes, their own, tranquil frames never once slowing Megumi down as she escaped from the creature, though its presence started to catch up with her; every stride she took, it gained another edge over her. She gritted her teeth, her own, elongated shadow slowly falling behind. Stands of pink swept her eyes, her fingernails busily groping the air in front of her, trying to reach to safety without another moment's delay.

It was behind her.

The damn thing was _right behind her. _

She slammed into the nearby corner, the window steadily meeting her fingernails. She turned hastily, and saw the monster running toward her, its arms outstretched, that same, eerie smile berating her with whatever cruelty it had left. She bit her lip, and waited, before leaping out of the way, the collision almost slamming into her. Glass shards flew from the frame, the howling wind singing to the murderous lullaby the cold moon had decided on for that night. She felt a few of the tips scratching her back, and she stumbled, but before long, Megumi regained her balance. She grunted, before running through the balcony, the sounds reverberating from the walls, resounding with the destructive chaos she implemented from a simple trick. She shoved her bangs away from her eyes.

Where was she?

Her brain kept racing through the company, tracking down the scent with whatever focus she had left. However difficult it was, she erased the panic from her bloodstream, the girl slowly beginning to take form in the shiki's mind. Neither the relations she once shared with Kaori, nor the memory of saving her ever came across the shiki's mind; rather, a callous, emotionless hope began to take form, pushing Megumi further and further into that sociopathic mindset. It didn't matter when. It didn't matter how.

Kaori had no right to be here.

Even as the monster chased after her, nightmares to which reappeared time and time again began wandering aimlessly from her eyes, planting the horrifying images of Sotoba in her brain like a little parasite, feeding off her fears and loneliness. It wasn't fair. _It just wasn't fair._ Kaori already got everything she wanted; a new school, friends, that stupid dog she takes out jogging. She's living a normal teenage life, an exciting one in the big city where she would get to take for granted all the opportunities Megumi could only dream about. Why was she showing her face here? What did she want from Megumi?

_Why wouldn't she leave her alone?_

The judgement calls continued echoing through her ears. The rings were so horrifying, so utterly devastating, and once again, she saw them, the villagers, staring her down. At the front of the pack was Kaori, who happily led the false ostracizing.

They were all running. Running away from the Kirishikis, who were closing in from behind. She was running from Tatsumi, though she held the same, lifeless grin Mr. Murakami so jubilantly manifested.

Stray shadows crossed the dim lights ahead. Toward the bottom of the steps, she could make out the engrossed, weary designers fumbling around the main lobby, trying to finish up today's work.

She stopped then, and grabbed the railing with both hands. That thing was still behind her. "Get out of here!" she shouted.

A few of them looked up confusingly, their empty, vacant eyes attempting to make out the hidden message she screamed toward them. "Ms. Miyuki-?" one of them began, when the monster emerged from her side, leaping away from her as soon as it caught its next meal. It leapt away from the balcony, and slammed the man to the ground, before indulging itself in the corpse that lay beneath its claws.

Megumi's eyes widened. The fire was there. People were dying left from right. The urge to survive wasn't as strong as the urge for retribution. She could see each side, shiki and human, fighting for their own trials, their own juries, callously trampling on whoever got in the way. She saw the perceived evildoers being punished, the innocent being saved from the tainted blood of the okiagari nearby. She saw the body bags, the ones who were unfortunate to rise up during the massacre screaming for help, begging for their loved ones to come and save them. She saw the crying faces of both adult and children alike as, one by one, they were all swept up in that pure, traditional, sense of justice Sotoba was enveloped in.

She blinked, before cursing then, swinging her legs off the railing and flying down the stairwell. Dark, feral eyes came from the black, and without thinking, she ran toward the beast, digging her nails into its face. Blood cascaded from her arm, and from the beast a piercing howl that shattered her eardrums. She held fast to it when it started swinging, that stitches undoing themselves one by one. Slowly, the smile came undone, poisoned lips turning upside down, the latest of its cries suddenly heard from afar. And finally, it howled.

From the corner of Megumi's eyes, she saw the workers still there, still watching her, as if mesmerized by the monster who was about to devour them. She saw the villagers standing there, gossiping, as if the death was just yet another activity they'd been goaded into doing. What were they all doing? Why were they just _standing there?_

The monster threw Megumi away from her face, causing her to land hard on her back. She gasped painfully, with bits of flesh embedded underneath her nails. Red blurred her eyes, the sticky liquid a result from her fractured skull. She heard the monster coming toward her, throwing aside its latest capture in disgust. Limbs poured from its mouth, the tiny ligaments scarcely finding their way around its yellow teeth, as it, once again, cried out. It launched itself toward her, arms outstretched, reaching for her with the lustful gore entwined in its pupils.

She grimaced, a palm to her forehead as she pulled away, her legs pushed by the fear and adrenaline weaving through her veins. Once more, it dug its face into the ground, before crying out in frustrated pain. Hurriedly, Megumi grabbed one of the designers and shook her. "What are you all doing?!" she screamed desperately. "Get the hell out of here-!"

The woman simply turned to her, with that same, eerie smile on her face.

She clutched the hangers in her ams a bit tighter, as she looked up at Megumi. The woman had a certain look on her face, an expression so very reminiscent of the elders, who used to sit on that bench, talking about the idle, bittersweet nonsense that went about in the village. "Ms. Miyuki," she whispered quietly, as the monster growled hungrily, staring at the flock of sheep standing in the way. "Have you chosen a model yet?"

And just like that, she was slaughtered.

The monster had ripped away the base of her back, and with one, fluid motion, started chewing on the spine. Her neck was woven within its fangs, her head bobbing up and down whenever its meal was being devoured. With each pressure the jaw invested within the victim, more of her skull would begin to push out, so much so to the point the brain was pushing against the eyes. The mouth toyed with the woman who had been so humiliatingly obedient to Megumi.

Megumi stood there, standing in shock, when the eyes finally came out.

The monster turned away from her, its attention suddenly trained on the designers, all of whom were asking Megumi a subject with a tone she couldn't comprehend.

"Ms. Miyuki, where would you like this belt to go?"

"Ms. Miyuki, do you prefer indigo or turquoise?"

"Ms. Miyuki, do you still need the mannequins?"

"Ms. Miyuki, how about the skirts?"

They were all laughing at her.

She clenched her fists, the deadness of the air entwined with the blood-soaked end. She forced herself to move, grabbing the hangers that'd fallen to the ground. Her knuckles blanched, the bruises still trying to heal from her back, the open head wound closing up with murderous vigilance. She raced toward the monster, forcing her way to the side of its head as she cut its cheek with the hook. She left the hanger there, before shoving the idiots out her way. When she turned, the monster had its eyes on her, a now demonic look sporting underneath the abysmal darkness.

She turned, and ran, slowing her pace to make sure the monster was enticed by her, and only her. She raced up the stairwell, hearing the familiar, frightening swarming to which the creature was so very adept at. It wasn't as fast as before; if anything, it kept tossing itself here and there, all the while trying to focus on one, specific target, and there was a strange aroma coming from it. Yes, it had Toma's scent. But it also had Haru's on it as well, and Yuuki's…

…and Tatsumi's…

Her narrowed eyes stole a glimpse at the designers down below, all of whom were still waiting on their answers. She grimaced, as she fled into one of the hallways, the lights still on, with no sort of panic coming through the air. What the _hell _are they thinking? Why weren't they leaving? Why are they still here, even after everything that's happened? Why are they just _sitting _there, _acting _like it's nothing?!

She froze when the creature fell silent.

She turned around, her eyes wide with fear, as the creature burst through one of the office doors.

She raced toward the scene, her hands pushing her body away from the door frames. The countless names of the puppets she's worked with, their own, unique titles grazing her humility at times, putting her own the defensive whenever the coworkers related their experience toward her; those irritating, precious moments, all disappeared, the moment she ran through that doorway.

There were only two people this time. A headless corpse was at the desk, his hand holding the pen, as if he was still working on the paperwork for yet another fashion show. The monster gripped both his shoulders, busily gouging itself in the vertebras and brain matter that dropped messily to the floor.

There was another person behind him, a woman, with a clipboard in her hand, the empty blank papers staring at her without flinching in fear. Her pink lips pursed then, as she continued asking the now dead man the same question. "Sir, would you-?"

Megumi threw the woman to the ground when the monster turned around. She cursed, grabbing the woman's wrist and rushed out of the room.

As expected, that creature continued following her once again.

* * *

Natsuno rummaged through the rubble, the stones falling from the shadows overhead. Nearing the depths of the chaos, yellow police tape covered the area, the ruins wrapped in the subtle gaze of civilization itself. Cages fell from the darkness, the steel bars giving way to the sinister air lurking nearby. When he looked up, he could still make out a bit of the twilight reigning down, the isolation of the facility, once again, fading away from the earth altogether. He turned his gaze down, and continued shifting through the broken files, the stubborn collection of experiments and victims slowly piling up from the depths of his mind.

The morning's events kept seeping through his brain. The fact that the company pushed Shimizu to do something like talent searching alone was suspect; normally, designers wouldn't even be involved with something like that, unless of course, she owned the company herself. What's more, the profiles from each of the employees seemed completely decadent, aimless, a corpse masquerading as a living person, no feelings or will attached to their system. They were like Yume, in a way, not only with their appearance, but also by the dullness that clouded their eyes. Though there were a few humorous ones along the mix, those same smiles carried something more devious, a scandal he wasn't quite grasping.

Toma's faint smell alone was enough to for Natsuno.

He crouched down, the copy paper glistening along the night's glowering edge. His thumb removed the sheet, and when he caught the familiar edge of a graph, the label 'milligrams' on the axis, he threw it aside. It's doubtful that the police had combed through this area yet. Though they've already secured the body and redid the autopsies, Natsuno couldn't help but feel they were missing a certain piece of evidence that would incriminate the CEO. After all, the man was carrying out illegal experiments; even if no one remembered Yume, most likely there were others that were subjected to the same fate. If they labeled his death as a murder, then obviously there was something the police weren't getting.

_Hey, Natsuno. _

He tossed aside another worthless document. If what Virgil Fawn said was true, then that would mean he and Toma had been working together for the last month. The yakuza found a card Haru had thrown away, a key that could gain access not only to Yume, but to the businessman as well. And for the past few days, Haru had been visiting Shimizu, carrying Toma's scent with him.

_Aren't you listening?_

Natsuno crumpled an unfortunate sheet that so happened to be in his hand, and tossed it behind him. Not too long ago, Haru kept making up stories about how Asaka was incredibly annoying, about how the man wouldn't leave him alone. The boy rambled on and on about getting an apartment by his lonesome, a bachelor pad, if his paycheck allowed it. He would open up a bank account, and he would manage it quite well, since there was no one he had to take care of, no drunkard on the verge of getting arrested to feed, no debts that'd been forced upon him. He'd be on his own, and that'd be the good life. If it turns out Haru has been working with Virgil Fawn, then the funding should be cut off now. Haru would have nowhere else to turn, and in the end, seems he would have to get a real job after all.

Maybe.

_I'm hurt. I really thought we were friends, you know?_

Natsuno straightened himself, and closed his eyes. One reason or another, his mind kept going back to that design company Shimizu was working for. They send her off somewhere to get mannequins, somewhere where they knew that sick freak was, meaning Fawn Industries and Shakunetsu no Bara had a trade connection somewhere along the line.

_Hey, I've been thinking. You could kill yourself tomorrow night, right in front of that bitch. That'd be cool, wouldn't it? _

The school fashion show was where Shimizu got her internship. Toma showed up to Haru's school, and bit a boy from Kaori's class. That boy, Ken, started to chase Kaori then, and it was only through Shimizu Kaori was saved. It was the same thing with Yuki, how fixated she was on the girl when she'd first risen up.

_After all, she did kill me._

He recalled the words from Virgil Fawn's mouth, as well as his obsession with both he and Shimizu. Toma targeted Kaori, but at that point, it was impossible for the man to know who burned down the Bethlehem Hospital, as well as the tunnels. But then again, once he did find out, it was certainly plausible that he started going after them then.

_But then again, you were supposed to be my friend._

There was Natsuno and Shimizu, the two shiki who survived the Purge. There was Kaori, who managed to get away from Sotoba, along with her brother and his father.

Then there was Haru, who looked just like Tooru.

That accursed village was perhaps the only thing all three of them had in common.

_You were supposed to do something about her, but instead, you let her kill me._

He balled his fists. That was a major fashion show Shimizu designed for, and although she was talented, perhaps that wasn't the reason why they allowed her to market her own styles in the first place. The outfits were beautiful, but in the end were incredibly morbid. Critics appraised it, but the dark, hidden story underneath such clothing was what caught a majority of their eyes most of the time. They outlined the Purge perfectly. They gave the audience a glimpse as to what actually happened in Sotoba, without meaning to.

_You let her kill me, and you did nothing about it._

He spun his heel and fled the building that night. Shimizu was still working there**,** wasn't she?

_You tried to kill me too, didn't you?_

* * *

Kaori held her hand over her mouth, daring not to breathe for one, single moment. Tears poured from her eyes, the soft, subtle melancholy of the night shattered by a simple confrontation. Her tiny body folded itself within her coat, and her eyes were down. Her body was trembling, and her hands were cold, the result of the frozen fear delved within her chest. She was hiding in a closet somewhere, listening intently to the various creaks rummaging from the background. Her forehead leaned against the door, trying to avoid detection from that thing.

For some reason, she couldn't get out. All the doors and windows were locked, and from the screams she'd been hearing from down below, she wasn't willing to go outside and satisfy whatever sick curiosity she had left. She had to stay alive, at least until morning. There'd be more people, right? They'd all see that creature, and then they'd have to exterminate it. That was what the villagers would've done, anyways. Though the city dwellers here weren't as smart or practical, they could still see a threat. That was basic survival skills; even an idiot could do that much.

She heard a loud, piercing scream resonate through the air.

Her legs were shaking. She clutched both hands onto her mouth, and shut her eyes, her tiny shadow shaking from her small, fragile frame. Her knees were getting weak. There was nothing here she could use to defend herself.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. _Human _footsteps. Footsteps that made her look up from her terrified position, her eyes carefully watching the plain, white surface. She held herself tight, her arms to her sides, as she tried quelling the trembling. Her eyes followed the stray lump in her pocket.

Her cellphone was out of power, so she can't call for help. Even if someone did review the security footage, by then it'd probably be too late. By some stroke of luck she managed to make it through the ordeal, she was going to apologize to Yasuhiko-san. She was going to apologize for making fun of him, and tell him never to set foot in the company building again.

After all, what else could that thing have been? It wasn't human, but it wasn't okiagari either. Was that the thing that killed off Yuki? What about Mr. Saito, and the other police officers?

She saw a shadow from below the cracks, and she held her breath. It was humanlike, no doubt, but that creature was human like too. She looked down, the doorknob turning slowly. Carefully, she lowered her hands from her mouth, the fear fading fast from her eyes. She looked up, and bit the inside of her cheeks. Who was it? Who had come knocking at her door?

Blood-soaked strands stained her rosette hair, her own, feral eyes regarding the girl shockingly, heartlessly. Her black minidress had been torn to pieces, the tattered remnants carrying with it a certain, deadly vitality to which the outfits were inspired. In the girl's hand, there was what appeared to be an arm that was dragging across the floor, creating a crimson pathway that might as well have led the monster toward them.

Megumi.


	58. Chapter 58

Kaori stood there, mesmerized by the haunting light of the appellation in front of her. All the breath had been knocked out of her body, a sharp pounding against her eardrums surging forth lies she'd rather not believe. The trembling ceased, and her eyes widened, that lonely, deep-seated pain throbbing from within the very depths of her heart. Her lips parted slightly, the horrific memories her brain had so desperately tried to suppress threatening to come out of her tears.

She never moved, never came away from her former childhood friend. She didn't notice the blood splatters all over Megumi's body, nor did she see the shiki's crimson pupils, which reflected every little cruelty she bestowed upon Kaori. She didn't notice the tears racing down her own cheeks, and she hadn't even begun to take note the corpses lying in the hallway, all of whom with empty smiles adorning their pretty, nightmarish lips for the blood nearby. She brushed aside the black stains so callously laid out on the walls, her stare never once leaving the okiagari's face.

The villagers. The villagers all died, because of her. She was responsible…for all of it.

Natsuno.

Megumi first took Natsuno away.

Then her father.

Then her mother.

She just stood there, the nothingness swirling her mind, an empty vortex of pain engulfing whatever emotions she had left.

She recalled the brokenness of a friendship, one that had never even existed to begin with.

* * *

Megumi stood there, the final judgement never reaching her ears. Midnight darkness reigned from the atmosphere, the slow, fading memoirs of a long forgotten time clawing away at her brain. Timeless tales from that fairytale illusion lay shattered in front of her feet, and though the jury still stood behind her, the shiki remained where she was, refusing to heed their orders, or listen to her guilty verdict. There was no regret, no remorse, nothing at all that could bring Megumi away from that suffocating period, nothing that could gage the depths from which even the pain had stemmed from.

She was shocked awake, when she caught the monster's silhouette prowling from above the balconies.

Slowly, she grabbed the girl's wrist, and unknowingly, started dragging Kaori away from the closet.

At an instant, Kaori slapped her hand away.

"G-get away from me…" she murmured quietly, backing herself, once again, into that lone, vulnerable corner. Away from the light, away from warmth, from whatever she'd known from her time with that forgotten friend.

Megumi turned back, her scattered thoughts lying within the torrents of emotions, all of which proved too influential to surface. She opened her mouth, and though no sound came of it, words managed to form.

Megumi took one step forward, only for the girl to shove her away. "Just…just get away!" she screeched.

The monster's eyes were trained on them.

No matter what she did, for some reason the designers refused to be saved. They all sat there, those demonic smiles plastered on their faces. They sat there, and waved, never once thinking about the situation they were in, the massacre that was about to take place should they not, at the very least, try and escape. They asked her for opinions, for corrections, for supplies, something they did on a regular basis, something they did every day, without any other thought of their own self-worth. They were dead, and though she could hear their hearts, they never acted on that impulse to survive. They were lambs to the slaughter, all of them. They were all, in the end, pathetic in their own mindsets. They faded from their own time, willingly gave up their own humanities, only to receive nothing in return, nothing but a shallow grave, and a hastily made funeral that only strangers would even consider attending.

It was their bodies she stepped over. It was their utterly hopeless dreams she crushed, without a single hesitation, without the slightest traces of guilt left from within her heart. They stood there, the bystanders. They stood there, and allowed themselves to be killed. Even when the guilt pummeled down Megumi's conscience, even when some foreign apology locked her away from her own, coldhearted mentality, in the end, it was they who were wrong. It's their limbs that coated the staircases, their limbs that decorated the floors. And not an ounce of blood was lost from the shiki's pristine body. She never suffered.

_She never suffered._

Perhaps that was the reason why Megumi wanted to save them.

Slowly, she came alive, when the monster started making its way toward them. She gritted her teeth, and took another step toward Kaori, however frightened she was. "_Listen," _she hissed, "if you don't get out-"

"Just shut up!" she screamed, closing her eyes and reopening them, trying to will Megumi way. "What…what'd you _want_ from me?!"

"Kaori…!"

Frantically, Kaori shoved Megumi away once again, leaving a small opening for the girl to run by from, the tears becoming more and more evident from the moonlight's merciless rays. Her hands groped the air for something, anything, to attack a ghost that reached out insanity's chasm, never once taking away the reality she'd been brought to.

Megumi could hear that creature drawing closer and closer. She spun around, her eyes steadying themselves for a moment, before finally seeing Kaori in front of her. A stray coat hanger claimed the girl's focus, her tiny, delicate fingers endeavoring to make the object seem more deadly than it appeared. Tiny glimpses of blood fell from the steel hook, as Kaori glared at the former friend, a malevolent, hateful emotion filling her pupils.

When she tried moving closer, Kaori screamed, "S-stay back! D-don't come any closer!"

Megumi balled her fists, and was about to shout again, when she saw that familiar shadow lingering over Kaori.

"You damn _idiot_!" she replied, forcing her way through the heavy feelings, if only to get to the girl. She heard the glass floors cracking underneath, and when she shoved Kaori to the ground, Megumi only had to turn around to find the monster, once again, coming near them.

She grunted, and stole away the hanger from Kaori's hands, before shoving her away. Megumi narrowed her eyes, focusing on the silence of the monster prowling nearby. The growls enticed her instincts, as she deliberately circled the beast, its own claws becoming more and more gruesome with each second passed. She gripped the hanger tightly, and rushed toward the creature, narrowly dodging one of its arms. She forced the hook out of the hanger, and threw it aside, before suddenly being slammed away, falling off the railings.

What's wrong with her?

That monster was still above her.

And Kaori was just _sitting there._

Hastily, Megumi pushed the girl away from the stairs, and grabbed her hand, the hook still in her possession. She thrust Kaori in front of her. "I said _go_!" she screamed.

"W-wh…"

"_Just do it!_"

Relief flooded her body when Kaori began heeding her words. It wasn't long before Megumi looked from behind the shadows, and saw the creature there, rushing toward them with its own, greedy lusts. It's claws were stretched out, the fingernails growing longer and longer.

It was aiming for Kaori.

Megumi cursed, before grabbing the girl's wrist and throwing her to the second floor of the balcony. A hard _thud _echoed from the walls, but before the creature could follow Kaori's silhouette, with one, fluid motion, Megumi ducked underneath its collarbone, and jammed the hook into its heart. She dug the end through the organ, before ripping it away altogether, ignoring the painful jabs that lay planted within her spine.

Yet it was those jabs that sent her flying toward the ground.

Her eyes were wide with shock, her fingers numb, as she screamed agonizingly, the blood gushing from her mouth. Her hands desperately attempted to regain their movements. Her legs stood, shaking from the demonic force laid barren along her body, and though she maintained her balance, she staggered. Her own brain was thrashing against her skull so very easily. She looked above. That thing was coming for her now.

"Kaori!" she screeched. "Why are you still standing there?! _Move your damn ass!_"

"I…I can't!" the girl screamed back, as that monster made its way down, breaking apart the balconies with all its might. When it landed in front of Megumi, she grimaced at the hungry revenge so gracelessly decorating its every move. "No one can get out! Everything's locked!"

"Then break something!"

She rushed to the side, managing to avoid the hardened arms swing. She skidded to a stop, and jammed the hook within one of the stitches in its arms, forcefully undoing one of the limbs, if only to grind it to a screeching halt. She winced at each step she took, every swing she made, but somehow, she managed to get back to her own pace, the bleeding seeping away her own stamina little by little.

No; that didn't even slow it _down. _

And within a blink of an eye, she was suddenly forced to the ground, coughing up the bodily fluids spilling out from her mouth. Her arms flailed from above her head. The scream built up in her throat suddenly vanished from her sight, the chaotic tension escaping her. She felt its claw marks on her abdomen, the hook flying away from her hand. It pounded on her again and again, and somehow, someway, Megumi still managed to remain conscious.

A sharp, relentless pain took hold when the creature stopped its feeding.

She saw a stray binder tossed lying just a mere foot away.

* * *

She didn't know what was happening, or why she helped the murderer. She couldn't comprehend her own actions, even though the okiagari's death was right there before her, just so willing for her to reach out and grab the revenge she thought she'd gotten. No, not at all. Rather, something else had gotten in her way, something that was governed not by her own feelings, nor by anyone else's.

Helplessness had no place in her body then.

Broken binders and books lay scattered over the floors from where Kaori was standing. And seeing Megumi down there, half-dead, about to be eaten alive by that thing…

She had grabbed one of the binders, and threw it at the monster, her fierce, confused, delusion al gaze returning to her face. Her eyes were wide with surprise, along with a satisfied decorating her lips. The fear was erased from that very moment, but along with it, a sense of urgency came forward. _Get it away from her, _were the only thoughts echoing throughout her mind.

And when it started toward her, the claws destroying the bodies from every which way, she ran. She ran as far away as she could, the frightened, determined look beginning to possess her pupils. Blurs shapes flew past her, as she rushed away from the corpses, kicking up the bodies if only to slow that beast down for a few more seconds. She tore off her jacket, and threw it at the monster's face, all the while moving faster and faster. She rounded the corner, and barely managed to get away unscathed from the walls. The blood was drying, but nevertheless, the sticky mess kept on dragging Kaori away, holding her down from the precious lead she managed to give herself.

She had to get to Megumi, no matter what it took.

That confidence disappeared the moment Kaori felt its hot breath on her back.

* * *

Toma stared off at the empty space.

His arms were neatly folded from behind his head, his dark eyes following the celestial moonlight. The smooth concrete from below grazed his back, the cold, metallic feel bringing his senses to a toneless close, one devoid of any passion, of any misery, being without a friend or enemy in the world. Cracked, red columns lay scattered around the grass, the burned down wood still coming off of it the senseless destruction. Statues have eroded from the scene, the isolated environment alone detrimental to the once sacred altars. He could practically see the massacre before his very eyes, the murders that have taken place, murders that were never accounted for, no matter how much the humans here tried to dig up. Even the beloved rules the humans seemed to rely on so very much have been broken, all for the sake of a foolish and fearful vanity.

From beyond the forests, barren twigs shiver in the cold. Broken flashlights sway their stubborn, useless bodies around winter's midnight songs, and empty guns lead whomever was unfortunate enough to stop near the village down a road to nowhere. Bullets littered the ground, along with pictures, memoirs, stories, letters, depictions that could reveal the shelter that was so greatly appreciated here. Floorboards were uprooted from their sheltered homes, and along with it, corpses that once happily slept underneath them, the dried bloodstain still trickling down their chins. White body bags blew wildly, dancing around the a dreadful mourning procession, along with familiar faces to which those depictions portrayed so jubilantly, cheerfully.

It was ironic, the way the predicament had ended. In fact, it was so ironic it was funny; not even the morals lay straight in the end, and there was no good or evil, no nature against nature. There was no outward enemy that any of these people had to deal with, nothing that could have possibly even begun to touch the complex concept of what constituted as society, what made up this twisted reality of theirs. Rather, they were all defeated by their own, psychological emotions. They all lay destitute to the humanities they've forgotten, both shiki and human; they ended up losing themselves so contently, even though their wills were so strong. Even the ones who have survived still seemed to be caught up in all of it.

The ending was so tragic it made Toma want to puke.

He sat up, his raven bangs falling from his hair. This shrine, unfortunately, had burned down with the rest of the village. Even when that doctor, who had rallied everyone up to destroy what was left of the shiki, managed to hasten the destruction. Even the sympathetic allies, vampires and humans, were left to rot in this cruel, twisted world, never again to be seen by their loved ones. Even the innocent were burned away within the very structure of the flames, subject to hell's punishment, simply because they were ignorant of it all. Even the adults, who supposedly guarded their families, their children, with their very lives, had succumbed to that lustful prospect of judging someone, of becoming the jury, of murdering without justification, and getting rewarded by it.

He smirked. Perhaps that was what made both creatures so…human.

He sat up then, his neck snapping back to place. He stared at the ruined village, at the pretty, shallow decorations hung everywhere. He stared at the bodies from which the police have gone missing, as well as the sleeping shiki from beneath the ground. He stared at the quiet, troublesome forests, at the dark secrets it carried. He stared at what used to be a grand, European mansion, the gossamer, white walls now washed away by smoke and ash, the beautiful stained glass windows destroyed by the villagers who dared call themselves "heroes", the playful, underground tunnels covered by a thick coat of dried blood, from which not even the tiniest child was spared.

He stared at it all, and he couldn't help but laugh.

He laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed at the world beneath him, at the hatred the humans have built up for his kind, at the hatred his kind had for humans. What a pitiful way to live! What a degrading way to die! What a repulsive, _sickening _way to fulfill life's heavy boundaries! Toss away the key! Lock away those explosive emotions! Conjure up an excuse as to why you're sitting there, with a body in your arm, a knife in your hand! Make up a story for why you've stabbed your own mother with a stake, or why you've strangled your own helpless infant! Let's all fall underneath the strange, enticing cry of insanity! Let's murder the common sense, and devour the morals that civilization governs themselves with, and cry! Let's cry, and scream, and moan, and shout, if only for the sake of letting go!

Toma stood, still snickering from underneath his breath. He held his hurting sides, the dreams alone causing him to chuckle away whatever troubles he had from his past, troubles he, unfortunately, had forgotten. "You're so troublesome, Yasuhiko-sama," he said quietly. "To think even you would fall prey to those demons of yours."

He straightened himself, walking away from the broken ruins, for which, in the world's case, have disappeared, transforming into nothing more than an empty shelter for criminals and wanderers alike. "But in the end, you already knew what you're doing. That beautiful, selfless marigold actually had its first taste of loneliness, and now it's pushed you so far."

He sways by the gale's melody. "Love, anguish, desire; it's all the same to you now. No, wait; I take that back."

He flourishes one hand toward the direction of the shrine. "You can still come back. You have your own humanity now. You've your own loveless, graceless life that you can twist around. If only for a brief moment, you can still possess that wonderful lie you've always been dreaming about."

His hand comes down emptily to his side, a slight frown replacing that wondrous smile. "But, as for those two. Those two, I wonder…I wonder if they've already lost it all."


	59. Chapter 59

_You tried to kill me too, didn't you?_

Natsuno hurried through the streets, grimacing at the ghoulish starlight from above. Wind had gotten away from him, the cold, crisp air bitterly attacking his skin with whatever desperation it had. An array of dead lights kept coming toward him, the smallest silhouette bypassing him without effort. His footsteps echoed throughout the streets, the dimly lit lampposts a tirade of misfortune for which that familiar scent began wrapping itself around his nose.

That was Shimizu's blood.

_You tried to kill me, and you never paid for it._

Natsuno's frustrations began piling from the confines of his mind, his solemn expression deepening into a more subtle, more analytical frown. He passed through the dozens of buildings, passed through a countless number of blank windows, all of which were staring back at him with those same mirrors. The same light reflected from each surface, bringing to him a frame that never could change, not even once.

_Why? _

No, that wasn't just Shimizu's blood. It was Yume's blood too, and Yuki's, and so many others, people who were caught up in that hellish maze. Their scents have all intermingled, to the point where, aside from Shimizu and Yume, he couldn't tell who else was wrapped around that deceitful web. Yet all the same, there was something familiar about the scents, something strange about the aroma that not even he could understand. If he closed his eyes, he could grasp a warm, yet temporal setting, somewhere he'd not been in a while.

_Hey, Natsuno. _

He pushed himself. The building was in front of him now. There as something lying there. It was bleeding. It was still struggling to get up, to keep on moving, even when the cold stole down upon it.

He knew that silhouette.

_Aren't you listening?_

At that instant, Tooru suddenly appeared behind him, even as he kept running, racing toward that familiar scent of home.

_My entire life was stolen away._

Natsuno's heart pounded against his eardrums.

_All because you stood there and watched me die._

His breathing grew heavier and heavier.

_So I want you to tell me something, Natsuno._

He pressed his face against the glass.

_How does it feel, when someone steals your life away?_

There was nothing there, aside from a trail of crimson, leading off into the darkness.

* * *

Megumi closed her eyes, as she kept track of Kaori's frantic breathing. It was impossible to track her scent now, at least, not with all the corpses around her. Their rancid, decaying bodies were enough to make her cringe, but as she stood there, one hand steadying herself against the wall, the other clutching her abdomen.

The injuries were taking a lot longer to heal. But there was nothing she could do about it; in fact, Megumi had been expecting it. She hadn't been feeding in a while, and as a result, her own vitality declined; Yuuki was already a witness, to all of it. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming in pain when she tripped over a limb. She winced at the steps, at her own, stubbornness, but continued on. Kaori was trying to find her now. But she was cornering herself, so it won't be long before that creature tears her insides open.

That stupid dog Love came back into her mind.

"I hated your freaking dog," she muttered.

Akira's idiotic smile grazed over her memories.

"You were all so annoying."

Her parents' chides echoed from the depths of her ear.

She gritted her teeth. "You were all just jerks that needed to die."

That little, fragile postcard which recited her feelings caressed her wounds.

"He wouldn't have returned my feelings anyway. Even now-"

That peaceful, tiny village, out in the middle of nowhere surrounded her senses.

"That stupid village shouldn't even have _existed_!" she screamed then, as she kept herself from moving. The bleeding had ceased, and though she could feel her organs slowly repairing themselves, the cells regenerating inch by inch, she remained where she was, the doubts circling her mind. "Why was I born in a stupid place like that anyways?! No one understood me! No one was cool! There were no shops, no clothing stores, nothing but a stupid old grocery store!"

She slammed her palm against the wall. "Why was I born in a place like that?! Why couldn't I have a normal life in the big city?! What the hell was I _supposed_ to do there?! They all made fun of me! I couldn't take it anymore! I just-!"

She could hear Kaori's screams.

That thing was closing in.

Megumi bit her lip, her fangs protruding from the roof of her mouth. She clutched the walls with her fingernails, and hastened, her still injured legs breaking down with every step she made. Yet she moved faster, her muscles beginning to heal, her pale, sickly skin reverting back to its own, flawless state. Her instincts focused on the girl, her brimming red eyes clutching the deep ebony she somehow managed to drown in.

She saw the two standing there.

She saw that monster lunge for Kaori.

And without thinking, Megumi stood between the two, with that creature cutting her down in the process.


	60. Chapter 60

Kaori sat there, in a puddle of blood.

She sat there, her face laden with fear and shock.

Bodies swarmed around her, their broken, black holes staring off into an abyss of emotions so gracelessly splattered from beyond the darkening veil. Cold flesh brought back to her the remnants of a torturous life, the boundary between her own, mindless thoughts coming to a close. There was a cool, gruesome howling from the midst of midnight, the clouds once again blocking that ugly light, which shinned down in tainted radiance. Delusional remains of the shattered memories couldn't find their way back to her, to Kaori, without those uncontrollable sobs so heartlessly getting in the way. Scattered were the last pieces of her own, shallow humanity, when she saw the murderess, the okiagari, the friend being eaten before her very eyes.

Megumi had saved her.

Megumi saved her, and now she was going to die.

Kaori shifted through those long, forgotten times, whatever good thing she could fell for hopelessly dissipating before her. Every touch she implemented, every cry she screamed, every tear that fell from her sinful eyes that night, had come to a grinding halt. She saw the vampire struggling, trying to break free, all the while shoving Kaori from beyond the lie, endeavoring to, at the very least, have the girl escape. Hatred, anger, regret…they all faded when she saw Megumi there, those crimson, wild pupils both she and Akira grew to fear, slowly giving out from underneath the monster.

What's happening? Why wasn't she running? Megumi was right there, wasn't she? Even in this situation, there had to be someway out. An opening, or something she could break the glass with. There was probably even a police station outside somewhere. They had guns, right? They had guns, and grenades, and knives, and anything else that could slow the creature down. Her house wasn't far from here, and Akira was waiting. Akira, and Mr. Yuuki, and Ken-kun, and even…and even Haru.

So why?

_Why wasn't she moving?_

Slowly, her eyes slid to the wall of bodies from around the area, the monster's own claw marks tearing apart the insides with each cannibalistic, demented thought that popped into its head. Yet the victims were all smiling. They were there, smiling, and yet they haven't a clue what was happening around them. There was nothing at all that grabbed their attention, nothing that had begun to remotely make any sense to them, as they all went about their deaths in that same, casual manner. She was knew of it. She saw the same expressions somewhere before, somewhere that she'd wanted to go back to, even if the entirety of it all had burned down, the morals now tossed aside by a new society, governed by sins and monsters and the like. She wanted to return. Kaori wanted to return to badly.

She hated this city.

Carefully, fear was gradually replaced by an empty void of apprehension. She could feel her muscles relaxing, and though she screamed at them mentally for doing so, they lay there, useless and vulnerable to the monster she was about to feed. Her brain was shutting down, her senses growing numb, the darkness coming down upon her with its silent, weary reign. A cold dullness swept over her skin, and just for a moment, just for a tiny, stray second that Kaori had distanced herself from the solemn heartbreak, she saw a shadow.

A familiar shadow, with a face as empty as hers, lunging toward the monster.

Blood splattered onto her face, and a forceful shove slammed Kaori to the wall. She yelped at the sudden pain, her limbs flailing ahead at the strength of the beast standing in front of her, yet her eyes took in the nightmare for which interfered with the finale of that demonic melody. The monster dropped Megumi's lifeless body then, her head still barely upon the reaches of her neck, as it screamed again its unearthly howls. Kaori narrowed her eyes then.

_Run. _

Megumi needed her to run.

Through the shadows, she could see the silhouette swing away from that creature. It bounded for one of the broken bones lying on the ground, and charged toward it, narrowly dodging its fatal bite. It got underneath the torso and grabbed its still bleeding chest, yanking away the heart; she could hear each vein snap away from each of the arteries, before the organ was tossed aside, a lifeless object removed from its master.

The bone remained where it was, and though the monster staggered back, it kept trying to come forth. Its pupils were becoming more and more aggressive, passing from the figure to Kaori. And in that split instant, it leapt towards Kaori, who was scrambling up and trying to move out of the way. She heard a loud _crack _from within the room, and immediately, the hot, rancid breath that was closing in on her vanished.

Rather, the groans grew louder, stronger, more painfully shattering with the notes it sang.

She only had to look up barely to see the figure wrapping its hands around the bone. With one, fluid motion, it dug the bone deep into the monster, staking it in one blow. It drove the makeshift weapon upwards, causing the skull, the collarbones, everything that just so happened to be standing in the way, to be split in half. The upper torso was useless then, replaced by a stumbling creature that couldn't even fend for its own, miserable self.

She suddenly felt that same, feral hand warp around her own throat. And at that moment, she was shoved to the floor, her already injured spine breaking down before the seams.

Kaori coughed up out her blood, the force pushing away all the breath in her body. She lay there, gasping for breath, all the while clawing at the figure's hand. She gritted her teeth, clinging to whatever air was in front of her, squirming from underneath its grip. She bit her lip. Her vision was failing. Everything around her was being cloaked by black and red and blue.

And by the time the clouds came away from the ever lonely moon, her eyes widened.

Natsuno.

* * *

He stared down at the shadow, at the victims lying beneath him. He stared down at them, their own, writhing bodies laughing, mocking, taunting at him as Death's cool, twisted embrace began entwining him, embedding his own soul with a cruel frame not even the jury could see. He was in those shackles, the chains his morals were dragging him down with. He was there, gazing emptily at the space before him, forgiveness and mercy passing by him without the slightest hesitation, the saints never once turning toward him, their own, calculating opinions taking a vibrant toll from within his conscience.

Cruel laughter caressed the spiraling, maddening atmosphere, his will becoming undone by the dreams the victims held, the delusions they've managed to wrap themselves around. Traditions cracked underneath his weight, an overprotectiveness replaced so horrendously with a passionate, self-absorbed vanity, a prideful attitude in which nothing could ever hope to exist. Shallow insults grew deeper and darker, eventually culminating to a stake in which even his own loved ones began seeking out his prayers, only to tear them apart and leave them away, faded from the slate.

They were all there, standing below him, their hands clapping joyously for the anomaly's death. They all took in the lovely rope burns wrapped around his throat and wrists, the flames that were going to jubilantly dance to the hellish tune of murder and lust, the wood that staked him to the ground, the wondrous trial taking place before the spectators, the entertainment suffering on. Boredom cleared from their gazes, replaced by a primitive amusement in which the demon would be baptized. Heartless brains began raising their complaints, the accusation piling further and further upon him. Finally, someone screamed.

Natsuno saw Kaori, writhing beneath him, his own thumb pressed against her throat.

He jolted back, almost stumbling over the corpse lying nearby. His jaw was slightly agape, as the girl lay there, gasping for breath. Tiny trickles of blood passed from beneath her chin, and she trembled from the pain, gripping her neck with both hands as she tried regaining her senses. Her school uniform was torn away, lying in ruinous taters, with dark stains pressed against her legs. Bruises adorned her throat helplessly, her chest heaving up and down, while oxygen rushed desperately back into her system.

He stared at the younger girl, the blood draining from his face. His fingernails held tiny pieces of blood underneath the tips, that same, familiar scent coming through his nostrils. What was he going to do? What _exactly _was he going to do to Kaori?

His thoughts cleared when Shimizu's scent surrounded him.

Hastily he spun away, his eyes shifting through the sea of bodies, all of whom were adorned with darkness and crimson. Jaws lay agape, those manipulative smiles twisted to the obedient lambs they were. Heads were ripped away, and spinal cords lay around the room, the collarbones sweeping throughout the vicinity as he went on with his search. Pale blue, transparent skin greeted him back, the pressure from within their eyes building up to an unsteady, unsatisfying balance, something that was entirely too fragile to maintain. He took one step, and then another, and then another, in hopes of finding the missing shiki.

He hurriedly came over when he saw the girl lying there, just a few feet away from the monster. He brushed away the aroma, as he cataloged Shimizu's wounds. Her legs were broken, and her left arm had detached itself from her body, leaving a mess from which the entire situation originated. Her head was nearly taken off again, and though he knew it could heal, it was going to take hours before he could even begin to think about sneaking out. When he turned her to her side, he could see the empty holes gazing back up at him, the wretched claw marks decorating both the base of her back, as well as her torso. The organs were still there, from what he could tell. But she's lost so much blood. Even before she's regained consciousness, Natsuno knew full well her instincts will drive her body to claim the strength she's lost.

So he resigned himself to waiting there, and fixed her head, carefully watching as the slow, weary muscles started to regenerate once again. One hand pressed against her cheek, making sure the parts grew correctly, while the other wiped the cold sweat away from his forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked, when he heard Kaori sitting up. He could feel her shocked, terrified eyes boring his back. The silence flowed between the two shadows, her nervous frame radiating with every second spent in this asylum.

Slowly, she began to stand. "H-how…?" she asked, her voice trailing away from the subject altogether.

"I broke in," he answered.

"B-but…but I thought-"

"I'm not bound to the same rules Shimizu is," he continues on, carefully maneuvering the shiki's neck so that the throat would be in the right place. "And anyways, it's not like you can stay here either. Police will be all over this scene in the morning. They're going to see what's been going on here."

When Kaori's knees gave out, and she collapsed back on the floor, he knew of the senseless illusions that kept playing the girl's mind. "Don't bother. Wait for a few minutes, then you can walk."

The quiet, once again, bombarded the two, the tension slowly coming away from the former friends. Finally, Kaori spoke up. "Why?" she asked softly.

"Why what?" he inquired quietly.

"Why did…why did she-?"

"I've no idea," he answered emptily. "You should ask her that when she wakes up."

He narrowed his eyes, as the illusion went away from the back of his brain. The corners from which his own, dark interest stemmed began taking hold, as he stole one glimpse around the room. The shallow graves were gruesome, to say the least, and if he'd turned away then, the idea that innocent lives had been cut short would've been an incredibly popular explanation. However, they all had that same, defeated air around them, as did the models from Shimizu's photos.

"What happened here?"

Kaori looked up, her arms huddled around her legs. He could practically feel the hesitation coming from her body, before she turned back up again, perseverance dominating her once timid nature. "What'll happen when Megumi wakes up?"

"She'll feed off me," he stated. "You don't have to worry."

"You're…you're both-?"

"I'd rather you didn't finish that sentence," he pressed silently. "Go on. Why're you here, Kaori?"

"I…" Again, her eyes fell down. She held her knees tightly, and took a shallow breath. "My friend told me about a designer who works here. I figured I'd meet up with her, since…since she was the one who won the school fashion show…"

His grip tightened. "You came here for that?"

"Y-yeah," she admitted. "She was…she won, and she wasn't even from our class. Everyone was curious about who she was. M-me too, of course."

"And what of that thing over there?" he said, gently tilting up Shimizu's chin. "Was it chasing just you?"

"No," she answered. "No, it wasn't. I hid in a closet. I was waiting for that thing to come out, or at least until morning, so I could run. But…but Megumi found me, so…" Her voice faltered, her expression trailing off into oblivion.

"I didn't think she was still alive. I thought the villagers killed everyone."

He shook his head. "It's fine. You did a good job of staying alive. Both you and Akira."

"I…" Tears were falling from her eyes, splattering onto the ground with a loud, resounding sound that echoed throughout the room. She clutched her skirt, and slowly, folded her knees in. "I…I don't want her to die."

"I see."

"I need to ask her things. I need to know why she did what she did back then, back when we were still in-"

"All the security cameras are down, and the front door's unlocked. Kaori, I want you to turn around, and leave." Natsuno interrupted, removing his hand altogether from Shimizu's cheek. With one thumb, he moved his sleeve aside, and felt for his pulse on the brachial artery. He could still hear her steady breathing, her reluctance taking over what little brutality she could withstand for the night. "B-but-"

"I'm not asking."

She flinched at his harsh, sharp tone. She remained where she was, if only for a bit longer, before finally, she heeded his words, and left.

Her footsteps faded with the growing distance, and as he kept track of her, her own presence slowly moving away from the building, she paused. She was staring back at the darkness, back at the corpses and the victims, and bloodstains, that pure, untarnished world her little friend had gone on and on about shattered before her eyes. Yet another ignorant bliss broken through, and with that, she turns around, and leaves.

It was around that time Shimizu woke up.

As he expected, those very same eyes from when she was still dreaming had come back. The ghostlike nightmares from which the quiet trials resonated began taking form in her own eyes. He could hear her whimpers, her incessant clawing as she tried escaping from whatever darkness was plaguing her at the time. She kept turning her head left from right, all the while her fangs gleaming within that deadly light. It was only when she heard Natsuno's pulse did that timid, frightened girl disappeared, replaced by a predator he knew all too well.

A twisted smile came upon her face, as she leaned in, her fangs protruding from the roof of her mouth. Though he placed his arm in-between the two, the shiki pushed it away easily, wrapping her own arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. He pulled her waist against his own, and before long, he felt her sharp fangs pierce his neck, the blood slipping away from his body.

She fed that night.


	61. 61 Motive

_Slowly, he lifted his gaze toward Shimizu, who was working on yet another design for a pressing deadline. A famous male idol in the UK requested it, so her boss decided to allow her to work on her own, despite the fact so many assistants were anxiously waiting to be picked up by the famed designer. She'd been complaining about the task long enough to make him, at the very least, memorize the cause of her headaches._

* * *

Two months ago, Haru asked Natsuno a very disturbing question, a question not even Shimizu would even begin to think of, except in very dire circumstances.

"Am I fat?"

Natsuno looked up from his drink confusingly, staring at a depressed Haru from across the table. His chin was pressed against the table, with an incredibly miserable frown glued on his lips. His blond hair fell toward his eyes, hiding the tiny tears that were threatening to come out. The display was somewhat cute, in a disturbing, mental kind of way.

Natsuno blinked. "Where's _this _coming from?"

"You know that scale Megumi found in the dumpster?"

"What about it?"

"Apparently, it's really accurate." He sighed, sitting up from his lowly position. "I don't know. You think she sees me like I'm some sort of fatty or something? Is she into chubby guys?"

"Like hell I'd know that," the jinrou snapped, causing the blonde to wince. Natsuno was about to say something more, when he stopped, remembering a very important detail about the scale in question. "No, it's not."

"What?"

"Your little Megumi added around 9 kilograms to it." he explained. "It had something to do with how heavy the clothes were. She thinks the fabric the company uses might make the models feel a bit uncomfortable."

"Oh!" Haru jolted from his seat, immediately brightening to the prospect of actually being handsome. That same, amiable smile came rushing back to the boy, as he rapped his fingers lightly on the table. "That's good then, right?"

Natsuno cocked his head. Why Haru would say that about himself, he'd no idea. In fact, from his point of view, the boy actually looked kind of emaciated, more so than anyone else at least. He settled back in his seat and folded his arms. "What'd the scale read anyways?"

Haru contemplated on the memory for a bit, before turning to his companion and saying, "56 kilos."

"…Is that the actual number, or…?"

He shook his head. "Nope. That's what the scale read. So, my actual weight would probably be around 47 kilos, or something like that."

"…Haru…"

"I know. You think Megumi would let me sell it?"

"That's not the problem here…"

* * *

_Apparently, the spoiled brat wasn't going to wear the outfit she made until he saw someone else go through the same process. He was trying to make sure the fabric wasn't poisoned or uncomfortable or big or whatever else came into the idiot's mind._

_And of course, when she called him later, he relayed to her the exact same excuse mentioned above, along with a, "Your boss said it was okay to use your coworkers. Do it or I'm never calling you again, you damn whore."_

_By the time she turned around, Yuuki was gone._

* * *

The very next day, that customer showed up.

Haru had called beforehand, saying he couldn't afford to skip anymore classes, else he'd be held back for a year. So for ten minutes, he begged Natsuno to sell the stupid thing for him, to which the jinrou agreed, however unwilling he was during that time. So he dragged the old relic out from under the table and stood there, brushing aside the cobwebs and insect corpses found dangling over the edge. He threw the blankets over Shimizu's sleeping body, set the product on the floor, and opened the door for the guest who kept banging on the door while screaming, "Worthington commands you to let him in!"

He never took into account that customer's appearance, simply because of how disturbing the man's speech was. For one reason or another, he would keep addressing himself as "chan", "tan", and the very humiliating "Kawaii", all of which made Natsuno want to cringe. Still, he showed the man the scale, and allowed him to try it. He shrugged, then started to walk away, before being stopped by a rather odd complaint.

"This thing's broken."

"Subtract 9 kilograms, and that'd be your actual weight."

The man jumped on it, causing the needle to race through the numbers. He stared at it for a little while, the number still centered around that certain, undesirable weight. His bottom lip pouted irritatingly. "It's _still_ broken."

"Look, you just-"

He groaned.

"It's only nine kilos."

"I _said_ this thing was _broken_."

"It's not broken."

"Read. my. lips. _Machine broke."_

"I…don't know how to make this any clearer for you."

The man gaped at the jinrou. "Are you serious?"

"I am."

He moaned, both arms to his side. He stared at the scale for a while, before grabbing a white cellphone from his pocket and dialing it quickly. His foot was tapping impatiently, his finger drumming against the wall. Natsuno looked back at the scale, then turned to the man. "Just subtract 9 kilograms."

"_Ugh." _The man turned to Natsuno with a very annoyed, immature scowl. "Do you have any _idea _who I am?"

"A guy who can't handle mental math…?"

"Who the _fuck _are _you _to tell _me _what to _do?" _

"…Yuuki?" a weak voice called from the background.

Though Natsuno never took his eyes off the brat, he could still make out Shimizu's weary frame, as she sat up, stretching her arms toward the ceiling. Her back was toward the two, as she wiped her lips from the blood she managed to get from some midnight bar. Her messy pigtails were in disarray, and her own, torn outfit barely managed to cover the tiredness from her body. He sighed then. "Haru said hi."

"Oh. Is that guy here?" she asked, rubbing her eyes helplessly.

Just before Natsuno could answer, the strange customer clumsily waltzed up to the shiki. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them profusely.

Said customer left with three deep scratch marks on his cheek by the end of the day.

* * *

_When she walked past those rooms, she saw a corner that rounded off the hallway. On the edge of the sides were windows that allowed her to gaze out at the now lifeless city. There was a picture marring the macabre view however, a newspaper article, with the words, _Worthington does it again! _plastered all over the headlines. Kaori couldn't tell how the boy looked, since his face was angrily marked out by red and green pins, followed by two devil horns planted firmly to the side of his head._

* * *

Author's Note:

-Hello.

-It depends on your height and gender, but normally, the healthy, average weight for a teenage boy about 67-70 inches tall would be from around 59 kilograms to 68 kilograms, translating 130-150 pounds. Haru said he was only 47 kilograms, so as you can see, Natsuno is incredibly concerned.

-Artwork by Natsuno and Megumi.


	62. Chapter 62

Akira ran toward the door with the tiny dog following behind playfully, both of whom eager to meet the long-awaited guest. Though it was a Sunday morning, and he was still a bit groggy from the very hostile prank Mori-san instigated on him yesterday, his arms and legs covered in open scars as a result, Akira managed to find the energy to plaster on a bright, vibrant smile in regards to his enthusiasm. He stood on his tip-toes and peeped through the hole, finding a familiar, friendly blonde that could very well be the answer to his own prayers. He could barely contain his excitement when he thrust opened the door. "Yasuhiko!" he screamed fondly.

The tall man stared down at Akira with that same, amiable smile, his open personality as candid as always. He wore a dark brown jacket that day, with a plain, blue t-shirt underneath. Black, tattered jeans came with the same, worn-out sneakers he usually wore, a testament to the new fashion trend that Bara designer had been setting. He was even wearing that skull choker she made, the one with the tiny, red beads scattered all over it, the one that all the troubled delinquents were wearing. But of course, he wasn't as emotional as the other kids in his class, nor was he as recluse, or depraved, or sociopathic or sick in the head. If anything, he seemed like an ordinary, normal person, or at least, more normal than his family.

Yasuhiko took one, careful step inside and removed his sneakers. Love kept circling around him happily, yelping out whatever thoughts first popped into his little dog head. Yasuhiko smiled, and petted him gently. "Please, call me Haru," he said softly, before turning around and closing the door. He straightened. "You said Kaori needed something?"

Oh, that little lie.

Akira's face flushed in shame, as he stared down at the floorboards, allowing Haru to enter the house. "Yeah…she's um,. I wanted to talk with you…actually."

"That's fine," he answered, with that same, cheerful manner never leaving the atmosphere. He nodded empathetically, as he went inside. Akira obediently followed him in, wringing his hands in front of him.

Haru took a quick look around, before dropping to the floor, his hands steadying his body from behind his back. He crossed his legs, looked up, as he invited the boy to join him. Akira did so, and imitated his laid back attitude, to which he failed miserably. Haru choked down a laugh, before regarding Akira casually. "So what's up?"

Akira bit his lip, remembering that disturbing, awkward night, one that managed to plant himself in the back of his mind. Kaori came home late after going to Omotesando, on the day of the hotpot. She was acting all weird, and she didn't want to spend any time with him, or Mr. Yuuki, or even the moron sitting in front of him. She just ignored everything and went to her room, never answering to anything the guests had to say on her rather peculiar behavior. The next day, when Mr. Yuuki went to check up on her, Kaori was gone, as was her jacket and her cellphone.

It's been a week since then, and so far, the only times Kaori ever bothered showing her face was late at night, when she'd come home without anyone knowing. She didn't smell like alcohol, and it didn't look like she drinking or partying or doing anything else illegal. Mr. Yuuki tried talking with her about it before, but she didn't appear to want to listen, nor did she have any interest in reclaiming whatever emotions she's lost from reality. Instead, she would always sit there, listening but never really listening, gazing at the nothingness in front of her.

The bruises around her neck were all the more troubling. Akira did suspect Ken for a while, but of course, he had a solid alibi. It didn't look like she was mugged; maybe some really bad guy caught up with her and tried kidnapping her or something. Maybe she was drugged. Maybe she saw something she wasn't supposed to see, and if she talked about it, she'd be killed. Maybe it was the okiagari.

The possibilities started roaming around the child's head, before he finally noticed Haru's expectant gaze. He sighed. "It's my sister."

Haru blinked. "Tanaka-san?"

"Yeah. I've no clue where she is."

"If it helps, she was at my apartment the other day."

Akira's eyes widened, as he leaned over amazingly at Kaori's only friend. "Really? Did she say anything?"

Haru thought for a moment, before that slight, disappointed frown settled on his face. "I think she said she had a… fight with someone?"

That would…probably explain the bruises on her neck. But then again, it's not like Kaori to fight back with anyone. Even Megumi. "Did she say anything else?"

"I'm sorry. She didn't. I don't know Akira," he instantly interrupted, as he took off his jacket and laid it on his lap. "You should probably talk with her about this stuff. It's not good if you just suddenly went behind her back and all that."

"But she won't talk with me or Mr. Yuuki!" he pleaded, trying to make his case as obvious to Haru as it was to him. "She's not saying anything! All she does is sulk, and whenever we do try and help her, she doesn't answer. She's not listening to anything we have to say…"

Akira stared hard at the wooden floors. Love was trotting back over to them, his tiny paws resounding the relaxing air that was supposed to have already come. The dog sniffed at his master's fingers, before rubbing them with his cheek. Was…was that really all? "Haru, she's been with you…all this time?"

"Yeah. I don't think she was doing anything wrong," he assured proudly. "She's not that kind of person. Whatever happened, I'm sure she'll be able to get through it."

The boy hesitated for a moment, grasping his hands as he contemplated on breaking the promise he made with Mr. Toma from the police station. The temptation was so great the silence seemed like an eternity to him, but at last, he choked down his pride, and smiled. "Yeah. She's a really good person. She would never do something like that."

Haru nodded. "Right. I've got her cell, so I can call her if you want me to. I mean, I don't know where she is _now, _but-"

"N-no, it's fine," Akira stated reluctantly. Mr. Toma said that aside from the other officers, he wouldn't tell anyone else about Sotoba, or the okiagari. He just hoped Toma didn't walk up to Kaori somewhere down the street and ask her about that interrogation, trying to verify Akira's statements. That alone was grounds for trouble; Akira knew Kaori didn't want to hear of that kind of thing again, but at the same time, what else could it possibly be? If the siblings didn't do something now, that bloodbath will corrupt the entire city.

He heard Haru chuckle, and he looked up. "You seem to have a lot on your mind. Need to talk about it?"

"It's okay."

"Akira, if you're that worried about your sister-"

"Well, I _am _worried, but it's not like that's gonna do anything. Besides, you're with her, so that's fine."

Genuine shock briefly flashed Haru's face, his lips parting slightly due to the temporary confusion. However, the instant it had come, the expression suddenly disappeared, so much so Akira had barely noticed it at all. "I see. That's…very kind of you."

He snickered. "You know what? Before she started acting all stupid, Kaori was always talking about you. It was always Yasuhiko this and Yasuhiko that. It was actually starting to piss me off!" He scratched the back of his head, while laughing awkwardly at Kaori's childish crush. Much to his relief, Haru never joined in, but rather, was a little embarrassed by the display.

Akira stopped then, when he remembered that moron from the hotpot. He leaned over curiously. "Hey, you know a guy named Ken?"

"Y-yeah. He's in Kaori's class. They're friends now," he added seriously. "Play nice."

Akira pouted. "No way."

"Akira, your sister likes him, right?"

"She's being lied to. She was always like that."

"Akira."

"He says you killed someone," Akira snapped then, causing Haru to jump back. "That guy's asking for it. I don't know why Kaori keeps on inviting a person like that."

Haru stared at him for a little while. A deep, contemplative gaze came to his features, along with a shallow smile that was rooted away from the warmth the boy knew once. He stared down at his folded hands, and closed his eyes, and when he spoke, a tiny hint of resentment came along with his tone.

"Yeah. Me neither."

* * *

Kaori looked ahead from the outside, her dark, soulless eyes gazing out at the radiant snow standing outside. Cars drove past the relaxed sidewalks, all of whom carried weary travelers that have already suffered through the holiday rush. Dark shadows lined underneath their eyes, their heavy coats lulling them to a peaceful sleep that, if outside, might otherwise prove fatal. Their scarves swayed along the gentle breeze, and through their dead dispositions, it seemed the world was at ease, moving slowly throughout the remnants of time. From the background, shops removed that stray, eerie ebony with a more peaceful darkness. Rampant, stray footprints from the entrances gave way to wisps of forgetfulness, and if she squinted, she could even see the employees there, napping on the countertops, knowing full well there'd be no customers today. Even the cafe she was in seemed to suffer from that same, tiresome epidemic.

Her hands clutched a small, plastic cup of hot chocolate. Her elbows rested on the warm, brown table, her pink mittens warming her frosty fingers, if only with the rough fabric clothed around them. Her ponytails were gone, her brown, sticky hair clinging to the sides of her coat comfortably. The hem of that jacket reached to her knees, covering the navy blue, sailor uniform she used to wear from middle school, a sentiment that, for some reason, for today, she found it hard to let go of.

Soft conversations kept touching her ears here and there, ranging from philosophical debates to the current state the economy to even the opportunities that other countries were giving Japanese high school students in, studying abroad and whatnot. Just off to the side, a small line of customers were anxiously waiting for their own snacks and drinks. They all seemed a little tired, a bit wobbly; she could smell the strong odor of alcohol and cigarette smoke coming from the men, their eyes callously looking from one corner of the cafe to the next, without the slightest hints of acknowledging Kaori's own existence, a prospect she found incredibly comforting.

She settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, the aroma of her drink lulling her in. She hadn't been able to sleep for days, ever since that night at t fashion company. Megumi's mauling kept replaying in her head over and over again, her blood spilling to the floors, splattering all over her face without any regards as to who she was there with, who she was allowing to see such a gruesome fate. Natsuno's cold, dead eyes kept boring her skull, the seething, pale rage adorning his face the very thing she worked so hard to avoid. She could feel his fingers wrap around her throat, the pressure slowly suffocating her, his will urging her own neck to snap, as Megumi's had. He was there, ready to doll out her punishment. He was there, a persona of her guilt, a ghost that haunted her only because she survived Sotoba.

She jolted awake.

"Kaori?"

She looked up, and saw a young man standing there. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his black and white checkered jacket, the grey fur decorating the edges of his hood. A black, wool sweater lay beneath the fabric, while his grey jeans hugged his legs, with a pair of black combat boots to address it. Purple hair clung to his neck, and amethyst eyes regarded Kaori evenly, eyes she knew all too well. Pale skin reflected the whiteness surrounding the outside, the ice neither melting away nor succumbing to that of the warmth inside the cafe.

She was speechless when she saw him. Even as he sat down in front of her, eyes turned to the same screen hers was, she still couldn't believe it. She gripped her cup tightly, her nails threatening to pour out the remaining hot chocolate onto the floor. Her breathing stopped, her heart pounding against her ears, as she whispered his name in a tiny, fragile voice. "Natsuno?"

His gaze flickered across hers, and she straightened. She was trembling, Kaori realized. She was frozen. She had no idea what to do, no idea what to say to the appellation. She couldn't understand why he was here, couldn't even begin to grasp on how he managed to stay alive. Whatever common sense she had from that night alluded her, and in hindsight, Kaori hoped that what had happened in that place was just another bad dream. Unfortunately, however, it appears the spectator believes otherwise.

He placed his elbow on the table, his chin beneath, as he examined Kaori for a little, with that piercing stare of his, the brotherly air he once exuded now cracking underneath the pressure. Her eyes widened when he sighed. "What're you doing here?"

"I…I-"

"Shimizu's still sleeping," he answered calmly, bringing his arm down on the side. He turned his pupils away, the black surrounding his corneas. "You're going to have to wait a little longer."

Kaori took a deep breath then, and looked up. No, the quivering won't stop. She couldn't do anything about it, couldn't stand to even stare at him as anything but one of the monsters that took away her once tranquil life. But all the same, a homely warmth spread across her chest. She closed her eyes. "You're alive," she whispered quietly. "You're alive…"

"Alive," he smirked halfheartedly. "Kaori, I've been dead for a long time."

"You're here now," she replied. "That counts as being alive, doesn't it?"

"You've got some low standards then."

She bit the inside of her cheeks. This wasn't the time to be afraid. Wasn't Kaori waiting for this moment? Wasn't this the chance to talk with Natsuno, to see what had actually happened? Wasn't this the opportunity she was looking for, the one that could end this nightmare once and for all?

Wasn't it?

So she regained her composure, and stared at him. "My friend told me about this place. He says this was his favorite, out of all the places in Tokyo, so…"

"So?"

"You survived the Purge. You and Megumi both did."

"I suppose you could say that."

"Have you both been living here all this time?"

"I doubt we could live anywhere else."

Kaori stayed silent for a while, her eyes never leaving the now cooling drink from within her now cold hands, her flesh stealing whatever warmth was left in the container. Memories from past sins now came from the darkest corners from her heart, and along with it, an endearing dream that ceased to have any value in it, anything at all that could have possibly come through the mundane life she so desperately wanted to have. "What was that thing?" she finally asked.

"I've no idea," he said aimlessly.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I mean."

"That _thing _is none of your business," he hissed quietly, though his glare never reached her. Kaori could feel the menace in his eyes, the fatal quality even she didn't know he was capable of presenting itself in the most wildest of manners. He scoffed then, and turned to Kaori. "Sorry."

"Why then?"

"You're better off not getting caught up in all of this. Though Shimizu might not show it, I don't think she'd want you involved either."

"No, not that," she corrected calmly, as she loosened her grip on the drink. Something hot came down from her eyes, something hot, and wet, and salty. Tiny droplets fell from her coat, as her hair brushed away the humiliating emptiness she felt inside. Friendships kept breaking off one by one, the cracks shattering whatever was left of her still healing brain. And finally, when the relations were all broken, and destruction was left in her wake, she could only stare at her former friend. She could only stare at the person who helped her survive all this time, only to be enthralled by the same, tainted corruption she tried to hide from. "Why did you try to kill me?"

And to her utter surprise, Natsuno turned back towards her, the confusion mingling along the lines of his face. His eyes were wide with sudden guilt, and though she could see her own reflection from his eyes, she couldn't make out anything else. No, there was nothing at all in that gaze of his, nothing, aside from the past memories he had of her and Akira.

Something clicked, afterwards.

He went back to his gazing. "I don't know."

"Why don't you know?"

"I'm trying to find that out myself. Isn't it obvious?"

A sudden thought came to her, a thought that made her shiver to the very core. "Were you thirsty?"

"No."

"Then why?" she pressed on. "If you and Megumi were that worried about me, then why'd you try to kill me?"

He stared down at the table then, his palm hidden from underneath his chin. There was a brief shadow of pain in his eyes, as if recalling something from the very existence he forsook. Deep, concerned lights brought back his own, normal eyes once again, along with a morbid face not even Kaori could comprehend. He looks toward her. "You were Shimizu's friend, weren't you?"

She stiffened. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Then I've nothing to answer for," he dismissed then, as he stood. "We're staying Omotesando," he continued coldly. "The company building you visited before? We live around there, in a glass apartment complex. Eighth floor. First door on your left."

She stood hastily. "That's it?" she questioned angrily. "What were you both doing there anyways? What about the Kirishikis? And Sotoba? Were you responsible for the murders? And what about-?"

"If you really want to know, then come to Omotesando," Natsuno stated then, his dark, brimming eyes shining the familiar crimson. Immediately, she flinched. "I'd rather you come alone."

"You're just going to leave then?" Kaori asked, gripping the edge of the table with all her might. "You're just going to show up without saying anything?"

"I already have," he answered. "But this isn't the time or place for a conversation like that."

"But what about-?"

She stopped when she saw Natsuno's twisted, cruel smirk, the smile not one she never would've thought he possessed. "Then you should ask your little Megumi about it. She's waiting for _you, _after all."


	63. Chapter 63

When the company massacre came to light, the shocked, disgusted bystanders couldn't help but take a look at the destructive havoc caused by that same, weird, rampaging murderer. Bodies were scattered all over the floors; organs hung from the high balconies, with tiny, streams of blood splattered throughout the windows. Posters of the models that once gracefully adorned the lobby were torn apart by animalistic, primitive instincts that only a monster could hold. Decapitations, quartering, cannibalism, whatever execution that came to the public's mind seemed to take hold upon their vivid imaginations. The audience was outraged, police was baffled, while individuals, both mature and childish alike, asked themselves how such a tragedy could happen, and in the midst of an incredibly large city. What's more, no one had even noticed such a gruesome scene for the past few days…

It was all horrifically remarkable, to say the least.

The company head was found slaughtered in his office, half-eaten by the same corpse that was lying in some room far enough away. Designers, experienced and amateur, were brutally murdered in throughout the building, all of whom carried strange, quiet smiles sheltered within their dead, bluish lips. Projects that the company had been working were trashed, forever lost in a sea of creative graves for which their minds dwelt. Celebrities that had come to try out the outfits were all in mourning, their clothing black rather than blue, or red, or white, or whatever else their fashion sense offered, to be worn at the immediate funerals at hand. Those strange, foreign communities that took the form of faraway neighbors, families, and disgusted onlookers refused to allow anyone to desecrate the corpses, not permitting autopsies to be taken, if only for the sake of the loved ones who were already dead to begin with.

Haru lay on his side, his palm underneath his cheek, his finger hovering over the remote, as he watched the events unfold upon the screen. His back rested on the futon behind him, and his body was covered by a large, black blanket that kept his own, cold flesh warm amidst the ghoulish morning. Blond hair fell to his eyes when he sat up. Huh; it seems they won't be canceling the Sapporo Snow Festival after all.

"Haru."

The boy never bothered turning. He didn't question the strange way Toma would usually just show up whenever he did. Though the aspect was a bit troubling, at worst the only thing Toma could possibly do was scold Haru for being so careless. Nevertheless, Haru was annoyed his constant reappearance, and in the most unsuspecting fashions. "You saw them too, didn't you?" he asked though, endeavoring to carry out, at the very least, some form of an informal conversation.

Toma, however, wasn't as cooperative as he usually was. "You're carrying out Virgil's research?"

"I am." He scoffed then, when he saw the police dragging the puppets into the white body bags. "They'd never be able to feed off of that trash. I thought you told me that stupid butler would be worth something."

"He was in the end. He ended up dying."

Haru shrugged. "A shame."

"But it seems you've a new problem to contend with," Toma stated obviously, as he drummed his fingers on the surface. "Your little Tanaka-san is on it now."

"It's fine," he dismissed. "Even if she knew, it's not like she could affect the outcome."

"What are you trying to do?" he asked, as he laid his head down on his elbows. Those black holes gazed off elsewhere, in a lonely, desolate corner where the dust was congregating. "What hope do you have in pursuing them?"

"I want to create a home they can come back to."

"It's funny," Toma muttered silently, flicking away the specks of dust flying toward his face. "I wonder how they'd react when they find that twisted, fiendish home."

Haru flickered his eyes back at the vampire. "But they won't remain here, wasting away in some mundane filth. At the very least, they can give into their instincts."

"Is that what you're trying to do then? Make it so they can't leave you?"

"No. I'm not that cruel." He turned his attention back to the screen, his hand letting go of the remote. "And I'm not that desperate. Even if I have to die, if they're happy then I'm fine."

Toma fell silent from within that room. The boy had no idea what the monster was thinking, nor did he care. His ears could only listen to the newswoman going on and on about the massacre, about how so many innocent lives were taken away by the brutal acts. Yet if anything, the situation seemed all too appropriate, considering the victims from which the mess had originated from.

And finally, Toma straightened himself. He stood from the table and walked toward the door. "What a bold statement," he murmured. "There are times when I wonder if there's a crying child beneath that exterior."

"Devotion is a sign of maturity."

"I find that hard to believe," Toma replied, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "But you're not planning on feeding that Tanaka girl to them, and you aren't so eager to drag her brother into this."

"There's no grudge."

"You seem so sure of yourself."

Haru sat up, and turned toward Toma. His eyes narrowed, and his hands clutched the covers tightly, the lie slipping from his fingers once again. "I know them," he said suddenly, protectively. "They'd never hurt Tanaka-san."

"Yasuhiko-sama, it's best to remember the world you live in. Innocence has no place in human nature."

"But it's the very thing that's kept them sane," Haru retorted. "Why do you think she managed to make it out? It's because they _saved _her. There's no reason for her to be afraid."

"So are you going to drag that precious friend of yours down with them?" Toma asked, his hand on the doorknob. "Are you going to sacrifice her humanity for the sake of their own?"

"Are you backing out?"

"No. Just curious is all."

* * *

She was holding that pink umbrella in her hands, the fine dirt grinding over her heels as she walked through the village. The heated shadow hid underneath the cover of clouds, her own pink dress carrying a deeper black from the ruffles of the hem. Long, pink nails kept scratching the umbrella carelessly, while rosette pigtails mercifully removed their suffocating presence from the sides of her neck, though the humidity attacked her throat. That revealing, immature outfit was fitted with the slightest tips of lipstick upon her mouth, a testament to how far she was removed from those stubborn, moronic traditions everyone kept worshipping. Her eyebrows were frustratedly furrowed, and though she kept trying to enjoy the morning walk, the same, pathetic scenes kept greeting her over and over again.

She could hear a tiny, friendly voice calling to her from the background. She could see the mundane farmers working ever so diligently on the rice paddies, their lively conversations badgering her annoyance little by little. She could feel the sun pounding against her umbrella, though the warmth itself was soft, the rays once again peeking through the remorseless clouds, though the environment itself screamed rain. She could practically taste those fat, ugly droplets make their way from around the umbrella's edges, splattering her makeup with its stupid interference, making her appear less attractive than need be. The smell of the eternal summer latched onto her nostrils like an unpleasant alarm, waking her up every so often to be reminded of the itching heat that wasn't going to let up within the months to come.

But she remembered their smiles, their insignificant chats, the way they would always sneak up behind her like Kaori usually did. She saw the remnants of her old classmates watching her from afar, the slightest traces of friendliness grazing their features so easily. Masses of dragonflies would fly overhead around the newly formed puddles at night, so very much like the brief dinner parties whose loud, rambunctious natures kept disturbing her in her sleep. Flyers blew throughout the empty roads, and that same, red mailbox stared at her emotionlessly. The forest's scent kept on watching over the atmosphere, scents that would always remind the villagers to tell her not to go through the woods alone. And when the did rains come, the gloomy, overcast skies steadily drifting downwards to the grounds nearby, she was always walking away from it then, trying so very hard not to get her fanatical illusions wet.

"Shimizu?"

Slowly, Megumi opened her eyes, her weary muscles aching at the slightest of movements she made. Iron coated her tongue carelessly, and though the taste was similar, her face heating up a tiny bit by the thought of it, she managed to push it away. Her fingernails clutched the cushions tightly, and before long, she sat up. The black ribbons in her hair were removed, the pink strands descending toward her back, if only to counter the cold swirling from outside.

She flinched when a sudden, sharp pain stung her side. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Yuuki standing from behind, his back to her. She stared at him for a while, before her hands came from her side, clutching her abdomen. Her eyes widened. "W-what-?"

"That monster's dead," he explained quietly. "And Kaori got out alive."

She looked up, her bangs bouncing up as she did. "You…you were there?" she asked breathlessly.

"I needed to talk with you about something. I didn't think I'd come to a bloody massacre."

"That thing…" Her voice faltered at the terrifying memory. The sensation of being torn apart by that creature was the only thing the shiki could possibly have clung to, but she could recall Kaori's frightened face, the brief, terrifying emotions of when the girl thought she was actually going to die. Slowly, Megumi's hand made its way to her lap, and she settled back into the cushion, her aimless daze trapped in that almost fatal moment. "That was the same monster, wasn't it? Back in Fawn Industries?"

"Apparently, Shakunetsu no Bara and Fawn Industries had a bit of a past together," he continued. "The mannequins your boss wanted you to pick was probably just a trap to lure you in."

She felt his own, piercing stare trace back to her unreadable thoughts, but before he could ask anymore, she opened her own mouth. "What happened?"

Silence fell between the two, before Yuuki turned away. "That thing was dead by the time I got there. Kaori said she was looking for you. No, rather she was looking for the mysterious designer who won her school's fashion show."

Slowly, those ancient times started redrawing themselves within her mind. That's right; both she and Haru modeled for Megumi a few months ago, though it was entirely by coincidence. She never showed her face to anyone, and she doubted Haru did anything to soothe his classmate's curiosities. "Haru came to that other fashion show too, didn't he? With Kaori."

"He did."

Her gaze shifted to the crimson curtains so heavily pulled toward the glass. Her legs curled inwardly toward her body, though her hands stayed where they were. "You think he told her my name?"

"I've no idea."

Megumi smirked. Funny; she didn't think Kaori would leave him like that. She was close to Yuuki too, wasn't she? Back in Sotoba, after Megumi had died, Kaori started to move in on him. Kaori took advantage of her death back then, and it was something Megumi had a hard time moving past. It was an unrequited crush back then, and for Kaori to just come in and steal him like that…and she found herself looking up at Yuuki once again, with the slightest traces of jealousy embedded in her eyes. "So I'm guessing she's freaking out now, huh?"

"A bit."

She bit her lip. "Yuuki-"

"I know," he answered, as he twisted the subject away from Megumi's envy. "Unless Kaori's _that_ curious about you, there isn't anyone else who would know where you'd be. The company doesn't release employee profiles either, does it?"

"No." She closed her eyes, as she relinquished her maddening immaturity for the time being. "What about the yakuza? Have they seen Haru lately?"

"They haven't. Apparently, Haru moved out of that apartment ages ago."

She clutched her hands together, her fingers entwining painfully with each other as she kept moving forth. "And Ken?"

"He fought with Akira."

"We still haven't been able to get into the police files?"

"Toma's still out there." Yuuki said softly. He cocked his head, placing both hands behind the couch's edge as the glimpses of a new possibility suddenly entrenched his mind. "Haru smelled a bit like Toma, and that card the yakuza found means the guy has, at the very least, partial access to Fawn Industries. He might be accessing their financial resources to help support his new lifestyle. Well, he's not in the night clubs, as far as I could tell."

"What are the chances that they're together?" Megumi asked.

"It's risky to say that they're working together. But at the same time, I don't know if we can afford to say that it's all a big coincidence. Perhaps it's just a side-effect from getting him involved." He closed his eyes. "Maybe Haru was just there, at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Maybe the reason why he smells like Toma was because he's met him down some random road. It's dangerous, but all the same-"

"-we just can't ignore it," she easily finished. She sighed, her mind returning to that strange, horrendous night. She closed her eyes. "That creature came around midnight I think. It chased me through the building."

Yuuki fell silent. There was no tension as there normally would be, nothing at all that would pertain to the stubborn nature for which unpleasant discoveries would be made. Rather, an isolated, cool indifference took form, and though neither spoke out their own thoughts, for one reason or another, the realizations continued to drag on. "Did they run?" he finally asked.

"No, they didn't." she explained, her eyes fixated on her lap. "They kept pretending that thing wasn't there. They kept moving on with their lives, going about their jobs without ever worrying. Even when someone died right in front of them, they still kept those stupid, smug grins on their faces."

He stared at her for a moment, before turning away. "When I came to your workplace, I smelled something."

"Was it Toma again?"

"It wasn't. It…it reminded me of Sotoba, in a way."

Megumi leaned back. She removed herself from the emptiness then, and reminisced on those callous hours for which the designers embraced their violent deaths wholeheartedly. Yes, during those moments, she kept thinking back on that village in the middle of nowhere, the villagers and all standing there, with those same looks in their eyes. "I thought I smelled Tatsumi."

"I see."

"You don't seem that bothered by it."

"I'm not." He smirked emptily, gazing up at the high ceiling. "For all the shit Toma's put us through, it doesn't surprise me that something like this would come up."

"You think it's their way haunting us?" she joked quietly.

"Perhaps. But even in death, they all found peace." Yuuki's muscles relaxing at the utter stillness in the room. All the while, Megumi sat there, enchanted by the speed for which time slipped by, the pendulum slowly bending away from her with each passing second. How long has it been since she walked away from her supposed grave? How long since she came to Tokyo, with all those impossible dreams and idiotic notions?

And a thought came to her then. "Haru tried to kill himself once. I don't think I've ever told you."

"You don't need to. I saw the rope burns on his neck." He folded his arms across his chest, an empty, tiny smile coming across his face then. "He really was a mess, back then. He was always going on and on about you. You were like a goddess to him."

She barked out a harsh laugh. "What an awful way to put it."

"Did you see the attempt?"

"I caught him in the Aokigahara Forest. I was still with the syndicates at the time, and there was a shiki running loose in the forest. I killed him, and that's when I found Haru."

"He said it was because of his own life," Yuuki explained. "He was tired of the yakuza and drugs and beatings, and he just wanted to end it all."

So that was it. That was why he kept spending so much time at her place. Megumi never minded the boy; in fact she enjoyed the moments they spent together, even if they were marred with continuous teasing. The fact that Yuuki kept talking with him during those precious afternoons made it hard for the depression to stick. And soon, it seemed to go away altogether, with Haru managing to branch out like he did.

It was wonderful.

Yuuki turned to her, a tiny, intrigued light glazing over his pupils. "How's he doing?"

"He's never talked with you?"

"No. He hasn't. He stopped going to the cafe a few weeks ago, and I haven't seen him since. There are times when Ken hasn't seen him, and the yakuza members never saw him during their crime sprees either."

"Toma's never caught on though, right?"

"That's right."

"Yuuki?"

"What is it?"

"Virgil Fawn was…the owner of the Bethlehem Hospital, wasn't he? He was Amber Fawn's dad."

Yuuki paused for a brief second, before resigning to her statement. "He was."

"Hey," she started slowly, never once looking up at the jinrou, "was Virgil Fawn after us?"

He never hesitated on answering, though of course, by that time it seemed anything was appropriate for whatever uncertainties lay ahead. "Yes."

"Why?"

"We survived the Purge," he answered. "That's why."

She huddled her knees against her chest. "He's dead, but stuff like this is still happening around us. You think Toma wants revenge?"

Yuuki was about to answer, but that once confident, prideful tone managed to fade from the air altogether. The sound of his own heartbeat was slowing down, giving way to the reflections for which the two shiki shared. His bangs draped across his eyes, his pale skin radiating from within the dark room. And at that point, Megumi couldn't help but be reminded of those ghosts, the ones that had come from an ignorant but happy time.

"I don't know," was his answer.

She bit her lip. References kept coming from across her mind, the horrific splatters of memories flooding through her brain like an aimless nightmare hidden beneath the folds of a dream. "You think we should head back?"

"No," Yuuki said automatically. "If Toma's that determined, then we're going to have to be more vigilant. Moreover-"

"That's not it." she interrupted calmly, her forehead resting on her knees. Her hands wrapped around her legs. "Should we go back to Sotoba?"

The silence dominated after that.


	64. Chapter 64

Natsuno trailed his fingers through the empty walls, rusted shadows stalking his footsteps throughout the corridors. Puddles of muddled water shimmered throughout the corners, the golden, marred sunlight reigning down on upon the broken ruins. Tiny streams of brown water cascades from the steps, the concrete settled throughout the underground with steady river of waste and purified rain, a testament to the recent floods that've so jubilantly accompanied the storms. Stains of dried gasoline kept popping up from within the darkness, and stray, soiled fabrics that were swept away with the calm torrents raced through the slippery floors, their past glory forever entwined with their now impoverished homes. The sticky air latched onto his skin as he came through the tunnels, brushing aside the old, yellow police tapes, kicking away the abandoned flashlights rolling throughout the floors.

Broken banners relayed their once prideful elegance through the dirty air, the quiet misery alone proving to be more than the shelters were capable of handling. Mold grew throughout the railings, the flushed out hearths now lying there in darkness, forgotten by its dead inhabitants. Ashes of toys, pillows, blankets, curtains, anything at all that could have given memory to the previous residents have all fled, aimlessly drifting from one end to the other without the slightest clue of where they'd be going. Where were those tiny black things now? China? Korea possibly?

The wanderers from above kept weaving their way through the red-light districts, with tiny, mournful squeals sounding throughout the afternoon light. He could feel their eyes peeking through the oversized cracks, their curiosities causing them to sweep over the stray shadow Natsuno emitted. However, the interest was evanescent, and soon the onlookers turned away, settling for a more mundane experience to keep themselves aloft. Slowly but surely, the dull, quiet atmosphere was beginning to revamp, gathering the bystanders as lustful slaves for yet another night of dance and drink. He could already smell the alcohol pouring through their veins, the sickening taste alone causing him to shudder away in disgust. Still, he kept moving forth, forcing himself to stay for another hour before going back to Omotesando.

Honestly. The only reason why he was even here was to see if he could dig anything else up, though by now he could tell the tunnels have lost their significance. The uncomfortable suffocation of being here was troublesome enough as is, but to revisit those memories of betrayal, his own naiveté projecting some stupid, immature sense of justice he found hopelessly depressing, was something that Natsuno couldn't even start to understand.

But all the same, the callous expedition was indeed a necessary wound. Just a few days ago, someone from Asaka's faction said he saw someone leaving here with a body bag, but other than that, the man couldn't see anything else. When Natsuno arrived, that body he found long before was missing. The rains couldn't have carried it off, considering the fact the corpse was high above the floodplains to begin with. All the organs lying near the corpse were missing as well, a foreign scent entwined in the fabric of the air; even that disturbing label was gone, the title of _Baroness _forever losing its importance in this twisted predicament of his.

The jinrou jumped down from the steps and shoved his hands in his pockets, his own face draped in cool indifference. When that monster attacked Shimizu and Kaori, he could see the woods surrounding that tiny village, the funeral pyres that kept with its callous, horrendous nightmare. No, not just that creature itself, but rather, the designers; Tatsumi, the Kirishikis, Masao, the villagers, anyone at all who was even near the destruction. He could smell the home he was forcibly chained to, the irritation pricking across his skin when he realized where his grave would be, where he'd stay for the remainder of his human life. And when he kept pondering on those scents, one by one, his memories would begin unraveling, bringing back nosy neighbors, bystanders, onlookers that he would always scorn. He grimaced at the prospect, before stopping, looking around him with a sharp, clear gaze.

_Should we go back to Sotoba?_

His fists clenched tightly. He bit his lips, as his eyes turned downward, his reflection coming across through the plentiful puddles lying nearby. A brief flash of crimson peered its ugly, smug grin through his eyes, before disappearing, leaving the shiki standing there, his shadows gathering around him. That question rapped wickedly along his skull, the very image of that hearth now dying before his own eyes. Even as the warm sunlight bathed along that darkness, the cracks growing wider and wider, revealing the beauty of the surface world just nearby, Natsuno couldn't feel any of it.

Go back? _Go back? _

Shimizu had already left, and now she wants to _go back? _

There was nothing there for her, nothing at all but ashes and broken homes. Traditions would lay scattered throughout the forests, the desecrated graves staring her back in the face. What exactly would she do when she came back to that village anyways? Cry? Scream? Shout? Wish everyone was alive again? Try and kill herself? How could she go back, when everything she'd forsook was there, falling away from that tiny, thread of reality she managed to save for herself?

How stupid could that girl possibly be?

His knuckles instantly slammed against the wall, the blanched frustrations taking form of echoes which resounded throughout the tunnels. She still wanted to return, even though the jury was there, waiting for her to arrive. They were all there; her parents, their classmates, Tooru. They were all there, and she was going right back to them. Even if she _did _feel remorse, in the end they were so very merciless. The judges were positioned, just waiting to inflict that same, guiltless pain she put them through. The stakes pinned down, and those twisted smiles were already laughing at her pathetic apologies and pleas. He could see her now, groveling in the dirt, bowing lowly without the slightest traces of that feral instinct left from anywhere in her body.

The whole thing was so disgusting he could just throw up.

And what of him? Wasn't what Natsuno doing enough? She was living, wasn't she? Shimizu was living out her punishment, but for some reason he could hear their morbid, siren calls. He could hear their curses from beyond the veil, their unforgiving souls reaching out and clawing at his consciences, crying out at his utter apathy, endeavoring to make him relive through those moments over and over again. No, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for him to act as the warden. He needed to come back to them. He needed to come back and reclaim his place, in that hole lying just above the furnace. The bright, fiendish embers surrounding his senses kept up their taunting, happily humiliating his still body, giving that hot, demonic breath to the vampire's delusions with everything it had.

Slowly, he started to uncurl his fist, his bangs falling over his eyes. This was absurd. Why was he acting like this anyways? It's not like any of them could come back to life, no matter what anyone wished.

He sighed, his hand swinging back to his side, the deep, flesh wounds already healing within the instant. Tiny, black drops of blood fell to the floors, and though the thought had cleared whatever shallow concerns he had, doubt still fled his mind.

Virgil Fawn was dead, and if they managed to kill Toma, then there'd be no reason to stay, right? For Haru's sake, he and Shimizu would have to stick together until the boy could rely on other people. He would go anywhere after that. Anywhere at all, but not to that village. Never there.

Neither he nor Shimizu didn't do anything wrong.

"Natsuno!"

Natsuno blinked, surprised by the familiar, amiable voice. His head cocked briefly, before looking up, and seeing a vibrant, blonde boy who was looking down on him, a familiar smile on his face.

Tooru.

"Haru," he inquired silently, as he took one cautious step forward. The light was hurting his eyes; he was going to have to feed again tonight. "What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" he shouted happily. He crouched down, his brown jacket folding under the creases of the sudden action. His eyes were wide with excitement, and before long, the boy started to come down. Natsuno watched as the fragile thing hopped from one stone to the next, slowly but surely making his way toward the companion without much success. A few minutes later, he stood in front of Natsuno, panting. "Why're you here? I thought you'd be in Omotesando!"

Natsuno smirked emptily, placing his healing hand into his pocket. "I didn't think you'd be okay about another guy staying with your crush."

Haru scratched his head awkwardly, the smile still on his face. "Y-yeah well…but listen! No wait, I'm mad. Where were you anyways? You weren't at the cafe."

"You stopped coming. Naturally, so did I."

"R-right." Haru shifted his eyes away from Natsuno, his arms hanging against his side. "Sorry about that. There was a lot going on."

"Don't worry about it. I hear you visited Shimizu though. About time."

"She's precious. Of course I'd visit her."

"Really?" he asked, one delicate eyebrow raised as he took one step closer, humor grazing the edge of his dark tone. "After…what? Ten? Twenty years?"

"You know me better than that," Haru poked playfully. "But seriously, what're you doing here? Curious about what happened or something? A fire started it, if you're wondering."

Natsuno nodded, the lie bubbling up from his lips. "Yeah. I heard about this place from some friends of mine. They kept talking about ghosts or something, and I wanted to see for myself."

"Huh. The exact same thing happened to me. Except," his eyes trailed hesitantly behind for a split second, before turning back, "they keep saying cops come around here. It's illegal to be here, so I was just looking out from there. But then I saw you, so…"

Natsuno scoffed. "You really are stupid sometimes, you know that? If you keep that stuff up, Shimizu might not return your feelings."

Haru blinked, and stared at the jinrou for a moment. He turned away then, his cheeks sharing the soft, jolly red his nose sheltered. "Yeah. Hey, about that…"

"What?" he teased. "If you're gonna propose to her-"

"I…I kind of got someone else in mind."

Natsuno scrutinized the boy for a while, before the embarrassed friend turned away, trying to conceal what was perceived to be his own social suicide. Though Natsuno could easily see the scarlet splattered across his face, in the end it was that same hopeful tone that so cruelly revealed the "scandalous" secret.

"Huh…" was all he could say.

"I-it's not that!" the boy stammered defensively, his heels spinning around at the thought of a simple, reckless accusation. "It's…it's something more personal. I mean, it's not like I _like_ her like her, but she's really close. We could be really good friends. I mean, she's more than a friend, but at the same time, I'm not attracted to her or anything."

Natsuno shot him a wiry smile. "That…doesn't help."

"Shut up," Haru snapped, before looking back, the resignation within his expression. "And besides, it's not like I had a shot at Megumi anyways. I mean, whenever she looks at me, all she sees is some little kid, right?"

"You thought of all that…by _yourself_?"

Haru punched Natsuno on the shoulder. "Why're you so shocked? I'm not that helpless!"

"Yeah, but…You were always just so fixated on her. Why give up now?"

"I-I already told you!" Haru stammered. He straightened, and took a deep breath. His eyes stared up at the afternoon skies, the clear clouds ahead giving way to yet another beautiful day. "Hey, I heard about what happened the other day, at Megumi's workplace."

Natsuno narrowed his eyes, his suspicions delving further from that alleged innocence Haru carried with him. "I still can't believe the company's debuting. I actually thought they were gonna hold off-"

Natsuno jolted awake. "They're still doing the fashion show?"

"Well, yeah. That was kind of what I wanted to talk with you about." Haru shoved his hands in his pockets then, and he looked up pleadingly. "You think Megumi would let me help her out? I mean, it's her job after all, but-"

"It's fine," Natsuno instantly interrupted, effectively cutting the boy off from his request. Haru blinked. "A-are you sure? With all those models-"

"You don't need to worry about that. Focus on your school. College entrance exams are coming up soon, right? Shouldn't you be studying?"

Haru scoffed. "Please. With everything that's happened this year, I doubt anyone will be in the mood for studying. Who knows? If the cream of the crop is suddenly depressed, I might have a shot at Tokyo University."

Natsuno simply held that cold, callous smile steady on his face, the light in his eyes losing interest immediately at his former friend. "Of course."

* * *

Megumi stared at the blank paper, the white corneas shadowed by the black once again. Rosette strands fell onto her collarbone, her pale skin shimmering with apprehension and loneliness as she kept on with her thoughts, the unbelief clouding her mind. Seams of fabric lay torn across the floors, her own creativity a worthless menace as she attempted to come up with yet another fabulous design plan. Her nails creased the paper painfully, while her left leg thumped up and down, up and down, for perhaps the last three hours. A warm, orange glow radiated from the curtains beside her, the thin rays of sun peeking up toward the ceilings, though, fortunately, never to the floors or walls. A few minutes later, she crumpled the empty thing, and tossed it aside, the other white balls greeting their new brother with melancholic coolness.

The funerals will take place this afternoon, and she knew full well the strangers who were going to show their sad, manic faces. It was pathetic, pathetic and pitiful and disgusting all the same. Allegedly, the designer Miyuki was going to show up as well; it's all the tabloid articles have been going on and on about; there was no mention of the families they've lost, the friends they've left behind. And due to Megumi's own scrutiny, if that very fascinating prospect was all the mourners cared about, they might as well not have gone at all. After all, what purpose was going to some stupid funeral if their idol hadn't shown up?

The gossip was already pounding against her ears, her brain bursting with rumors and malice. She gripped the pencil and continued with her unsatisfying work, the mere thought of the careless violations alone enough to screw around with her concentration. All the while memories of Sotoba kept swirling around her, the images alone refusing to be abandoned by the humanity she slaughtered.

And after all that, they were still making her do the Sapporo Snow Festival.

She sighed, and set her pencil down. She laid her cheek on the barren surface, her body stopping with its incessant movements. Her request had poured through her memories yet again, the jinrou's cold, angered face still very much clear within her mind.

Of course Yuuki would be upset. He didn't want to go back to some dump in the middle of nowhere, if only to investigate a few more corpses. Whatever scents there were, it was probably just a coincidence. After all, when you spiral through your murder spree, the body count growing higher and higher with each passing day, your victims would start to smell alike. The entire concept was like a new clothing line in a way; the spoiled brats had absolutely no idea how meticulous she had to be to make the fabrics, and yet in the end, the stitches were all the same. It was repetitive, dull, boring.

Annoying.

She straightened herself, her eyes boring the table surface. Yuuki was lying, from the massacre at the company, to even the night at Fawn Industries. The fact that Kaori alone was at the company was suspicious as is; the girl wouldn't have come to a place like that if she was only interested in meeting a designer. She went with Haru to the fashion show a few weeks ago, and considering the chaos that ensued there, that might be the reason why. She probably wanted to find out what was going on there, though at the same time, because of her own, morbid punishment, Megumi figured Kaori would stay as far away from the company as possible. The fire and gloom alone was traumatizing enough.

She closed her eyes. Haru was the only one who could've told her where she was. He was the only one who could've told her Megumi's alias, where she was staying, what place she was working at. She also could've told him what exactly had happened at Sotoba, and since Yuuki confirmed that Haru had been working under Virgil Fawn, Megumi could only sit back, and accuse.

But nonetheless, the boy would never do something so sick and twisted. He was honest, and if he tried lying, both she and Yuuki would pick it up right away. His eyes have even gotten a bit brighter over the last couple days, and it was that alone that made Megumi want to turn away from the confrontation altogether.

Yet all the same, her emotions alone weren't enough to put the suspicion away, at least, not this time. Haru came into her apartment and smelled like Toma. He lied to Yuuki about Asaka being killed, as well as being busy with school. If he was still associating with Toma, Haru could be a very viable source of information for him, so even if he wasn't working with him, Haru could very well be providing information to the vampire despite him not knowing it. His trusting nature proved hazardous as is, and with the darkness looming over him like that, it seems there was almost nothing she could do to save his oblivious descent.

Megumi shoved the papers away. Neither she nor Yuuki knew how to track Virgil Fawn's financial statements, meaning there was no way to tell if Haru was still receiving his payments or not. Waiting around for months on end isn't the most ideal way to go about it, and following Kaori and Haru for the rest of their lives was just…too creepy. And by then, Toma might've already left Tokyo, without them uncovering any motive, any reason at all for his actions. They'd have to watch their backs for the rest of eternity, if only to stave off the jinrou. The adrenaline alone would shove them over the edge.

She blinked then, a familiar scent touching her nostrils. A few seconds later, she heard footsteps making their way towards her door, before stopping, almost hesitating. Warily, Megumi stood, slowly walking toward the door. She was about to peek out through the peephole, when she stopped.

"Megumi?" a tiny, fearful voice asked.

Kaori?

She froze, her senses decaying from the moment she heard the girl's voice. She found herself taking tiny steps back, her fists balling, those crimson eyes brimming from her corneas once again. A low snarl rose from her throat, though she kept herself silent, and rather than aggression, curiosity poked through her features, along with frustration and confusion. Kaori must've walked past the company to get here, the scenes of gore and yellow bombarding her eyes so easily. She must've seen that, right? So why was she here?

"U-um," she continued. "Natsuno said that…you were waiting for me…?"

Yuuki?

Megumi narrowed her eyes. She spun her heel and turned away, her ponytails whipping from her skull. She was just making that up. Yuuki knew how Megumi felt about that girl, and it's not like he said anything to her about it. She huffed, and set herself to work, the outlines of the dress still obscure in her mind.

She could feel Kaori's eyes falling, and Megumi bit back a satisfied smirk. She was about to tune her out when Kaori whispered, "Why?"

She stopped.

Kaori took a deep breath. "Megumi, if you're in there, why'd you do it? Why'd you murder everyone?"

The shiki slammed her palm against the table, and stole toward the door. She forced it open, and grabbed the girl's fragile wrist and forced her in.


	65. Chapter 65

Kaori tripped on the fabrics lying beneath, causing her body to slam against the hard floors. She winced at the sudden pain, the bruises howling agonizingly at the pain from nights before. She clutched her sides, all the while trying not to cry out as she normally would have. She clamped her lips down, as she opened her eyes, struggling to, at the very least, sit up.

She was here.

Megumi was really here.

She was towering over Kaori, with that same emotionless, frightening expression she always had. It was that face Kaori couldn't bring herself to read, that incoherent expression she kept ignoring for so long. Tame, pink strands fell toward her face, and those crimson eyes Kaori grew so terrified of shinned brightly from within the darkness. The fact she was wearing a slender, black elegant dress alone was enough to cause Kaori to freeze, the contrast between the fabric and the shiki's sickly skin alone proving just how inhuman her former friend had become. And at that moment, Kaori forgot about that night, about what had almost happened, and instead, concentrated on the demon in front of her.

Kaori regretted coming.

Still, the two girls regarded each other evenly, Kaori with trepidation, Megumi with a slightly more reserved, though unpleasant astonishment. While the girl's veins slowly began freezing, her fingers giving way to the frostbite her fear incited, from the corner of her eyes she could see Megumi clenching and unclenching her fists, the frustrations building up from her system. Kaori bit her lip, urging herself to do something, say anything, if only to relieve the suffocating silence. But before she could even open her mouth, Megumi beat her to it.

"What're you doing here?"

The familiar voice rebounded from the back of Kaori's ears, remnants of a cold, one-sided friendship beginning to take form. She could feel her fingers tremble at the memory, at the slightest mention of whatever disgust Megumi might've held for her, the lies Kaori's told herself undoing bit by bit. No, they weren't friends. They were never friends. Megumi wanted to kill Kaori, back at the village. Maybe she wanted to kill her even now, though they survived the ordeal together. Maybe this was just her way of luring her in.

So why then?

Why did she come?

Kaori steeled her heart, and slowly, albeit hesitantly, she stood. She ignored her tumultuous shaking, the way her heart pounded against her eardrums. She took a deep, hesitant breath, trying to remove the fears away from her body. However, she could already hear Megumi snicker emptily at the girl's efforts. "Aww, what's wrong? Still scared?"

"I…Megumi-"

"Yuuki would never do that," the shiki continued. "He would never have brought you here without me knowing it."

"N-no…wait-"

"Stop lying, you spoiled _brat," _she murmured. "How'd you even find me in this stupid city? There are millions of people here, you know?"

"I-"

_"__How'd you find me, Kaori?"_

Kaori clenched her fists, and stared up at Megumi with determined eyes. "Natsuno told me where you'd be. He said you were waiting for me."

"I told you to stop lying!" Megumi demanded. "The last thing I want to do is see your ugly face. Get out before I-!"

"Even so!" Kaori interrupted, taking one, tiny, brave step forward. "Even so, I still want to know what happened!"

Megumi narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your damn business."

"Then why'd you save me?!" she screamed. "Why'd you rescue me that night?! Wouldn't it have been easier for you if you'd just left me to die?!"

Megumi looked away. "Just shut up," she murmured.

Kaori could feel her own anxieties evaporate, replaced by a long, archaic anger that slowly began consuming her system. Memories vanished from within the shadows, and in it, a present emotion that only she could feel, that only she could understand. Every breath became precious from inside her lungs, every drop of blood shed a gift within the confines of her own existence. Kaori bit her lip, and finally, stared up at her former friend, a sharp, clear mind aroused in the midst of the chaos. "Why?" she repeated bitterly.

"Why what?"

"Why did you save me?"

Megumi scoffed desperately. "Come on. You come here and _that's _what you're gonna ask?" she asked then, leaning over mockingly, her fangs baring out from her lips. "Your mom and dad are gone, aren't they? What? Did you kill them or-?"

"If it was so…damn painful then WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE ME?!"

Kaori suddenly rushed up to Megumi. Without thinking, she stood just a mere inch away from the shiki, and slapped her.

Megumi's head whipped sideways, the black gradually fading from her eyes. Whites from her corneas started to show, along with those feral eyes Kaori had already detested. The girl never paid any attention to the tears racing down her cheeks, nor did she see the shock that adorned Megumi's features. She could only stand there, enraged by her selfishness, Megumi's scarlet sins gazing back at her, taking form of a field of corpses that effortlessly decorated Sotoba's now ruined hearth.

"Make up your _fucking mind!" _Kaori screamed. "Just what the hell am I to you?! You think I came here because I _wanted to? _You think I'm here because I want to die?! Who do you think you are?!"

Megumi gritted her teeth, her iron will dissolving from the atmosphere. "_Get the hell out of my-" _

"And what about Natsuno, huh?!" she shouted, causing the vampire to stop. "You honestly think he wants to be with _you?! _After all the damn _shit you pulled?! _Why he puts up with you I don't even-!"

Suddenly, Megumi grabbed Kaori's wrist, right when her arm rose to slap the vampire again. "Natsuno, huh?" she muttered murderously. "You can actually _call_ him by his first name?"

"Let go of-!"

"_Then explain yourself!" _Megumi screamed, shoving Kaori away from her. The girl almost fell again, only to regain her balance at the last second. She snapped her head up, and glared hatefully at Megumi, who was just as frustrated as she. "What did you think you were doing, back at Sotoba?! You knew I liked him! You knew, and you still tried to-!"

"_Natsuno _and I are friends!" Kaori shouted back. "But even if we _were_, what makes you think you can just get away from it all?!"

"What? You wanted him for yourself, didn't you?! You were probably the happiest out of the entire village! I died, so you could get your _slutty little hands on him! _Must've been funny, huh?! With one rival dead-!"

"IT WASN'T LIKE THAT!" she interrupted angrily. "What'd you expect us to do?! Wait until _you _came for us?! It'd only be a matter of time before we were killed too! Of course we had to do something!"

"Kaori, I swear-!"

"You actually thought we _wanted _to be like you?!" Kaori laughed then, the hysteria racing through her bloodstream. "You _wanted _me and Natsuno to become killers?! You _wanted _me to be a monster?! I thought you WERE MY DAMN FRIEND!"

Megumi stopped.

Kaori, however, didn't notice, and instead, continued on, choking back whatever sobs were escaping from her lips. "How could you do that?! To me, to Akira…to your parents…to everyone who ever cared about you?! You honestly think I'd laugh at _your funeral? _You think I'm that kind of _bitch _who'd make a_ move on my friend's crush?! _Are you really that stupid?" Slowly, Kaori placed her hand on her mouth, trying to stop her weakening sobs, only to fail in the end. Tears blurred her vision, as she recalled those terrified nights, staying up late if only for Megumi to come terrorize her once more. "Are you that stupid…?"

"I had my own-"

"Reasons?" Kaori finished sarcastically. "You don't have to tell me. I already know…"

The girl took a deep breath, endeavoring to steady herself, before moving on, all the while reaching out for the calmness she had before entering the monster's domain. Her voice cracked through the silence, shattering whatever defense the two had left in spite of the attacks. "You kept saying how much you hated Sotoba. You wanted to go to college in a big city, right? You kept ignoring me whenever I tried calling for you. And you always stuck your nose down at the other villagers."

Megumi closed her eyes, and stared ahead. "Shows what you know. Kaori, they made fun of me. _They're_ the ones who refused to change-"

"So you had to KILL EVERYONE?!" Kaori screamed again. "You had to destroy everything?! Just for that stupid idea?! What about my family? What about Natsuno's family, and yours? You really gave up all that?_ For one stupid mistake?!"_

Megumi bit her lip. "It wasn't stupid."

"What'd they do that was so bad?" Kaori asked through her tears. "And me? I never touched Natsuno. I never even thought of him like that _and you still came after me!" _

"You've really never seen it, have you?!" Megumi screeched. "They've all those idiotic traditions! They push away whatever outsider comes their way, and indulge in stuff that's not even worth wasting time on! They laughed at me, at Yuuki, at everything but their own stupid selves! They even killed their own when they realized shiki existed! How are _you_ any better if you're gonna let a place like that survive?!"

"Then what am I?" Kaori demanded, her arms to her side. "What am I to you?"

"You're just a rabid memory that needs to be _put down," _she hissed.

"Then why did you save me?"

"That's-!"

"If you meant all that stuff you said, then why did you save me?" Kaori asked again, the resolution persevering through her heartbroken tone. "If you were that cruel, why'd you let me live? You rescued me that night. You tried saving those other people too."

"That's not fair Kaori," she warned.

"What's not fair is you killing all those innocent people in Sotoba," Kaori countered. Through her painful, corrupted youth, she could see that flash of uncertainty through Megumi's face, a thinly veiled disguise of something even Kaori should be able to recognize. There it was again, hidden beneath that disguise. "What? Are you trying to make up for it now?"

"Shut up."

Kaori took a threatening step forward. "So this _bitch _is actually _sorry _for what she did? You think that fixes anything?"

"I said shut up."

"A lot of lives were devastated because of you," Kaori continued. "Are you actually trying to get Natsuno's approval now? Are you still chasing after him-?"

"I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!"

The girl was suddenly slammed against the ground, her back crying out at the sudden force. She could feel her shoulders pinned down, Megumi's claws digging into her skin. Kaori looked up defiantly, refusing to give into that timid resignation.

And she froze.

"What'd you know?!" Megumi screamed back. "You're just some kid who's living out her own screwed up lie! You think you can just waltz in here and judge me? Have you ever murdered anyone before?! You ever kill someone for the sake of protecting your loved ones?! Do you _fucking know _what it _feels _to live like this?"

Kaori could feel the shiki shaking, her cold demeanor breaking down at the seams. "You think you can handle the guilt? You think you can understand what it feels like to be me? _My life is a living hell! _I always keep seeing them there, taunting me, toying with me like they always do! I hate it! I'm sick of it! It's made me so fucking _angry _I just want to _fucking DIE!_"

"Megumi-"

"I'm already here! I'm here, and I'm _suffering! _I'm not that blind Kaori! I hate this! I hate this so much!"

"…Is that why you're crying now?"

It was as if she suddenly saw, for the first time, her own pain.

The two stayed like that, the cold atmosphere wrapping delicately around their silhouettes. Time slipped through their memories, playing with whatever the pendulum could influence. Deaths became deep, endless slumbers, and the holes from which Kaori was afraid of suddenly disappeared, replaced by covers that even creatures, both dark and light, could hide behind. Both jury and prisoner came to being, with forgotten prayers merged, if only to form a tiny purgatory from which their sufferings stemmed. There was no exclusion, none at all, save for the tiny wisps of hope that managed to fade from their macabre reality, toying with the thought of playing dead for the epoch.

Megumi suddenly came away from Kaori then, the tension in her muscles building from each second passed. "Get out," she said in a hard voice.

"What? But-!"

Megumi turned, barring her fangs at Kaori, with the dark abyss returning to her eyes once again. _"Get out."_

* * *

He stared at the deep, red spider-lily, his hands delicately stroking the tiny, thin petals. Small, yellow bulbs showed their innocent remarks on top the flower, while warmth cascaded away from the beautiful thing, falsely foreshadowing whatever was left of his once happy future. The tall, rigid stem carried with it protectively the thinly veiled petals, a dark, verdant guardian in the midst of winter's decadence. Cold water dripped from his fingers when he placed them to his side, staring emptily at the plant with the confusion so clearly marring his face. Before long, he shoved his hand back into the jacket, and turned around, taking in the comfortable, story like flower shop.

Tall, arched windows lay to his immediate right. Light green curtains were held by golden ribbons, their streams descending from the gossamer fabrics so easily, all the while maintaining their elegance throughout the supposedly graceless shop. A large, oak table was set up in the middle of the store, with tiny sprites adorned to the sides, beckoning dark and light to entwine within their mystic poems and lyrics. Vases, tall and short, small and large, gathered around the table, broadcasting whatever seductive charm they offered to an innocent, unsuspecting customer. Tulips, marigolds, orchids, poppies, any flower at all he could've thought of they were there, their colors creating a kaleidoscope of meanings he already memorized. Glass shelves filled with blossoming bulbs revealed their sweet scents, their own natures neither saccharine nor irritating. As he walked through the store, he caught sight of those familiar, dark brown bookshelves standing behind the clerk desk, with titles such as _Herbs _and _Flower Names _claiming his already wounded pride. A simple chandelier hung from the ceiling, the golden lights giving way to the kind, simplistic lifestyle of the faraway flower shop.

In all fairness, the boy still couldn't believe he found something as beautiful as this here, in this putrid city called Tokyo. It was perhaps when he was still in grade school did he start taking an interest in the shop altogether. Whenever he was alone, relieved by the duties of that stressful, student life, he would always stop here, picking out the blossoms that stole away his mind, occasionally helping Ms. Uchiyama, the storekeeper, out with a few of the chores. It wasn't very manly, he'll admit, but nonetheless, it was something that kept him relaxed, kept him happy. He couldn't imagine what his father would say about this, what Yuki would've done to him should she find out that stray little hobby of his. He probably couldn't even walk down the hallways without someone picking a fight with him.

But that started to change a little, when he met that one, special girl from school, that one simplistic crush that made him want to hang out around the store all the time, if only to see her just that once, just walking home without a care in the world. He knew it was a selfish desire, and at times, he admitted it was a bit creepy, but all the same, the humiliating secret was worth keeping, if only to see her for just a little longer.

So what exactly was _wrong_ with him then?

Ken bit back the urge to cuss himself out, while mentally assaulting himself with every possible torture weapon he could think of. His teeth kept grinding away his tongue until he could taste blood running through his mouth. His fists were balled, while his brain rushed back to that unfortunate scene at Tanaka's house. Not only did he fight with that stupid little brat, he also managed to get on Mr. Yuuki's bad side _by causing_ said fight. And even when Tanaka came home, she completely managed to ignore everyone and shoved the door in their faces. All of it, his planning, months of fruitless efforts, ours on end of standing by that Gothic window, just hoping for her to appear, all of it _wasted _on one, single outburst.

Ken went towards the empty clerk desk and sighed, leaning his arms against the table as he feigned fatigue. He stared up hopelessly at the ceiling, the wooden floorboards resonating from his impatient finger taps. She probably doesn't even _want _to see him now, considering everything he did to Akira. He talked bad about her precious little monster after all, and since he was forever barred from her house, it seems he's lost any chances of asking her out normally. Should they do those cheesy, forbidden love things in manga? Pull off some kind of Romeo and Juliet shit?

His grunted miserably, as he walked behind the desk. No way Tanaka would agree to something like that; reality doesn't work that way, unfortunately. There was no possible, conceivable outcome that didn't involve her slamming the door in his face, or cursing him in front of the whole school, or pushing him in front of a busy highway and laughing while he gets mangled beneath the engines.

Man…

The phone rang a few seconds later. Ken blinked down, and automatically picked it up, placing the device on top of his shoulder, while stealing away the black notebook which kept up with the deliveries. Ms. Uchiyama, was out right now, and since he was so conveniently heartbroken she's asked him to mind the store for the afternoon. Well, at least there was one person who appreciated him in this cruel, sick world.

"Uchiyama no Hana," he answered professionally.

"U-um, hello?" a timid, shy tone asked.

Ken narrowed his eyes. A guy, probably around twelve or thirteen. The new year is coming soon, so he's probably asking for a bouquet for a girlfriend or something. Couples tend to do that around here…for some odd reason.

Right.

"How can I help you?"

"C-can you get a really, really big vase of red roses here by around…four o' clock?"

"Sure," Ken replied, as he quickly jotted down the order.

He heard that simplistic, silver bell ring, the cool afternoon air suddenly entering the ephemeral greenhouse. Ken looked up irritatingly when the chilly frostbite stayed, glaring at the customer who stood in between the cracks. "Address please?" he added, hastily gesturing the customer in, unwilling to allow any more damage to come to the beloved flowers.

"S-sure," the child quipped. "Ah, 7710…" Immediately, Ken began jotting down those precious words, all the while staring at that lone customer, the one who was wandering about.

He had jet black hair, his raven bangs skipping lightly whenever he jumped from one plant to the next. His pale, slender fingers kept manhandling the plants, so much so that whenever he touched even the thorns, Ken couldn't help but shiver. In his arms he was carrying a big, white envelope, one with the words messily written _Confidential _sprawled across it. He wore their school's uniform, and though the kid did seem familiar, in truth Ken couldn't remember where he saw the freak. Was he hanging out with Yasuhiko?

When the customer was done, the address laid before his eyes, Ken nodded. "I'll be there shortly," he said.

"T-thank you!" And with that relieved farewell, he hung up, leaving the temporary store owner to deal with the unwelcome stranger. He scrutinized the boy for a while, before leaning across the counter and squinting his eyes. "Hey you."

Slowly, the boy turned, revealing a cool pair of pitch black eyes, both of which were staring at Ken with a mixture of shock and contempt. He blinked at the disrespectful attitude, before twisting his body, trying to see if Ken was talking with any other ghosts who just so happened to be nearby. His eye twitched annoyingly. "No. You. Come over here."

The boy stared back at him then, his eyes slowly widening with surprise. Carefully, he pointed the finger at himself, and Ken nodded frustratingly. "Yeah. _You." _

Hesitatingly, the boy obeyed, walking unsteadily toward Ken with that slight, anxious look on his face. Ken drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk, waiting for the day when the idiot finally showed at his door. "What? What'd I do?"

"The cold isn't good for flowers," Ken said haughtily. "If you're gonna come here, don't leave the door open again."

"I…right," the boy said then. Ken nodded approvingly, before returning to his apparent duties.

He walked around the counter and came to the table, his eyes scanning for whatever vase the boy's awe could convey. Okay, so he wanted a bunch of red roses. Three dozens would do, but maybe that'd be a bit too big. Was the kid looking for something fancy? Probably, but Ken doubted he would notice, considering the somewhat hazy confusion he relayed over the phone. He brushed aside the boy's cold, callous stare, as he selected the vase. He was about to turn around, when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, causing him to nearly drop the precious product in the process.

Ken breathed a slight sigh of relief, before spinning around angrily. "Don't do that," Ken hissed. "Dude, if you want something, get it. I'll meet you out in the desk."

"Where's Akira?"

Ken's eye twitched annoyingly. "How the hell should I know?"

The boy blinked, his lips parting slightly at some impossible revelation that costed Ken precious minutes. He took a deep breath, trying to shove away his anger, before failing completely and snaking his arm away from the boy's grip. "What?" he snapped.

"You…" The boy's voice trailed off, and after another pause, a slow, apologetic smile came upon his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Ken scoffed, as he turned away. "Whatever."

"It's just…I needed to find someone," the boy fumbled, "and I was wondering if you could help me."

"What do I look like?" Ken spat, as he nearly slammed the vase on the counter. He spun away and went to those crimson flowers blossoming in the back corner.

Carefully, he grabbed a pair of scissors lying near the tulips, and began selecting the flowers, one by one. He resisted the urge to flinch when one of the petals fell off, adding to the mounting pile of withered beauty along the floors. "If you wanna find someone, then go to the damn police."

"See there's the thing. It's not something I can go to the police for." the boy answered softly, as he followed Ken around the store. He stopped within a few feet behind him, that same, amiable expression on his face, one Ken wasn't entirely ready to accept.

"How's that my problem?"

"It involves one of the girls at my school," he answered. "You're…Ken, right?"

The boy stopped.

_Shit. _

He turned around, almost growling at the intruder. "How'd you-?"

"I've…I've seen you in the halls. I-I'm Toma by the way."

He threw the scissors to the table, and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell do you want?"

"Um…I ah…"

"_What_?"

Toma, who was clearly shaken by Ken's demeanor, took a deep breath, and dropped the false grin. He pulled out the envelope and looked up hesitatingly. "By any chance, do you know who Kaori Tanaka is?"

Tanaka? "What about her?"

The boy's eyes brightened instantly. He swept his bangs out of his eyes, as he stared down at Ken's shoes, not even beginning to believe his own luck. "Okay! Okay good! Um…by any chance could you give this to her little brother?" he asked, as he shoved the envelope in Ken's face.

He only took a moment to ponder on the request before scoffing at the idea altogether. "Dude, if you're that desperate, give it to him yourself."

"I'm sorry. But you seem really close to her, you know?" Toma said then. "But then again…then again I don't want Tanaka-san to know about it. See, there's a lot of really bad people out there, and if they see me give this to her, it'll…it'll be pretty messy."

Ken raised a delicate eyebrow. Carefully, he took the package then, before looking up at Toma. "What's in it?" he asked suspiciously.

"N-nothing illegal!" he hastily barked. He stared at the ground, painfully writhing his fingers. "It's…it's just papers and stuff. Detective stuff. Her little brother um…he likes all that."

Ken sighed. Well, at the very least he might be able to make it up to the family. Hopefully, Tanaka would change her opinion of him, if only just a tiny bit. He stared at Toma curiously. "Are you friends with the guy?"

"Y-yeah! We do a lot of stuff together. He's actually helping me right now. Solving crimes and stuff…"

"So you're into that?" he asked dishearteningly, throwing his now disinterested gaze away from the envelop. "Some kind of game?"

"Something like that. See, there are these bad guys out to get me, and if I'm seen anywhere near Akira…it um, it won't end well. No one's gotten out yet, so the tension's still really high."

"Fine."

"Really?" the boy squealed.

Ken flickered his eyes irritatingly at Toma. "Yeah, really. Is that all you came to do, or-?"

"T-that's all!" he said, thrusting the envelope back in Ken's arms. "And don't forget! Besides Tanaka-san's little brother, you're not allowed to show anyone else what's inside!"

"W-wha-?"

Toma smiled happily, cocking his head while he did. "Because if you do, I'll lose. Remember that."


	66. Chapter 66

Megumi stared emptily at the page sitting before her, the design that flourished from her pen radiating with a dark elegance it wouldn't have had days before. A hard frown came upon her lips, her own, fragile features masking an ever eternal depression that was deepening before the seams. Dried stains came from her cheek, stains that kept trying to forget the tortuous moments that have appeared before her. The helpless vulnerability she endeavored to put behind slowly dragged itself from her recent memories, stabbing her pride with whatever words she spewed in front of Kaori.

Night had already fallen, the frustrations she kept inside piling up with each annoying second passed. How long has it been since Kaori left? How long since that explosive confrontation? Perhaps hours, a day or two, certainly not a week however, and yet all she was doing was sitting here, scribbling away at the lines of some stupid outfit. Kaori's screams beat against her brain, the girl's insults replaying from the shiki's mind with little reluctance, the echoes entrenched by the hypocrisy glazed over the surface. Megumi closed her eyes then, the weary shadow claiming the lines of her face.

In front of the vampire was a dress, one not suitable for casual wear, though not as aristocratic either; it was different in a way, though Megumi couldn't tell what, the effects of the color scheme alone already a complex mystery to her. The model wore a small, silver chain that latched onto a heart shaped locket, followed by another delicate chain which reached down to her wrist. A sleeveless, dark amethyst dress came from the fold, the hem descending over her legs and gently gliding off to her ankles. There was a slit in the thigh, the sides held together by a long black thread which emphasized the model's innocent, seductive nature more than anything else. Megumi exposed the back, forming a v-shaped opening to the point where the threads easily drew out the model's skin with small, intricate patterns of feathers and skeletal wings woven toward the waist. The model would also be wearing a tiny hair pin with light azure feathers cascading from the bangs, though in some ways, the piece might impair the model's vision, even if it brought out her eyes. Unlike any of the other dresses, there was no black or red, nothing at all that could possibly drag up the violent past she kept hidden beneath some decadent corner from within her mind.

No, not at all.

And suddenly, a deep, contemplative silence had come across her brain. Emptiness replaced analytical thoughts, and within the fray, she was instantly gone, her worries leaving her without the slightest care. What was Megumi doing anyways? What was she doing here, designing for a worthless company that was slaughtered by the hour, helping a guy who was already beginning to leave her behind? Remembering the people who died before her feet, like obedient cows heading off to the slaughter house?

Or even saving a girl who couldn't separate fact from fiction, who couldn't even appreciate her own life, much less her sense of justice?

The question kept repeating itself over and over and over again, not withstanding the doubts that happily coerced her mind into reality's delusions. She never stopped retracing the lines of the outfit, never took her eyes off the graceless plan she was drawing up for herself, or for the model. She felt isolated, chaotic, having absolutely no idea what she should do, or what she wanted to do, or what even Haru wanted to do. Virgil Fawn was dead now, wasn't he? Though Toma was a problem, if she and Yuuki caught the man, then it'd be alright, wouldn't it? It was only a matter of time before…

Before what?

She could feel a familiar presence quietly come into the hallway, that same, elongated shadow grazing her skin with a new, somewhat informal air. Carpet and floorboards alike revealed hardened footsteps laced in uncertainty and hopelessness. Seconds later, she heard the door open, with small cracks of light escaping into the dark room.

Any warmth that grazed the air vanished within that moment, when Megumi remembered the embarrassment her former friend had put her through. She couldn't begin to turn around, showing off her puffy, immature eyes to the jinrou, nor could she speak, bile violently rising from her throat, the tears being renewed should she even decide to confront him. For once, rather than admiration and the subtle hints of renewed love, there was a tranquil anger flowing through her veins, her glare emerging from all the weeping she ended doing, voluntarily or involuntarily.

"Shimizu."

"Why'd you do that?" she asked silently, forcing back her reluctance, while injecting torrential malice into her tone. She ignored the failure, though he stayed silent for some time. Finally, he spoke. "She's your friend, isn't she?"

Megumi bit the inside of her cheek. "Shut up."

"Like it or not, she's involved," he explained emptily, the cruel, hazy statements a jab in her eardrums. There was a tentative pause, before he began again, steadily walking closer toward Megumi. "More than likely Toma's found her, and he's not going to leave her alone. You know that, don't you?"

"She can just die for all I care."

"You're lying."

In some ways, she wanted to grab the jinrou. She wanted to scream, and shout, and cry, and strangle him without the slightest hesitation as to whatever had happened that night. She wanted to remove that burdensome guilt from her heart, display whatever arrogance she had left from her days in Sotoba, if only to prove Yuuki wrong about his assumptions. She wanted to give into that holy avarice, longing for more of those happy, jubilant lies, the ones where everyone was still alive, where no one was maimed, or staked, or burned, or whatever terror Megumi could come up with. She wanted to be angry, but in the end, the emotion dissipated the very next instant.

And she felt…nothing.

Megumi clutched her pen tightly, trying to comprehend Yuuki's actions, all the while examining the surroundings around her, darkness swarming over her deep, scarlet eyes. "You told her I was waiting for her?"

She could hear his footsteps coming around from the couch, and from the corner of her eyes, she could make out a small, insignificant thread dangling from his jacket. "I did."

"Why?"

"Aren't you curious?" he quietly asked. "Despite everything she went through, she's still here, still alive, still fighting-"

"That's not what I _fucking meant_," the shiki muttered, the pen stopping during yet another stroke. "Why'd you tell her where I was?"

She could feel Yuuki's eyes boring her back, that piercing gaze scrutinizing her disposition. The chaos started to die down then, bit by bit. When he didn't answer, Megumi clenched her fists. "Why _the hell _did you-?"

"The same reason you did."

"What?"

He sat down behind her, his back against hers, a subtle, calm resignation emerging from the conversation. She knew his eyes were closed, his hands sullied from yet another night from searching. From the surface, she could even make out a few scruff marks on his clothes; the police must've tried detaining him again. He seemed a lot older than he appeared, the same nothingness coming away from his own frame. He tilted his head up, his face directed towards the ceiling, his muscles relaxing at that moment.

She bit her lip, her fangs clawing away at her tongue. The tears have finally stopped flowing, it seems. "And what kind of half-assed reason is that?" she hissed, the lonely threat dangling from her voice.

"You want to avoid it as much as I do, don't you? The remorse?"

She froze, the pen gradually coming to an unpleasant, astonished halt. Her mind went blank, as her self-pity dried up with another civilized impatience to which not even Megumi could understand. She turned around slightly, his slow, rhythmic heart beat reflecting back mercilessly the deadness of her own. But he was colder, emotionless, his secrets hidden within every dark lachrymose that came into their view.

And when she, at last, managed to find her, when her lips parted, she heard that unmistakable, relaxed breathing escaping from him.

Asleep.

She turned her eyes back to the dress. "It's funny. I didn't think you'd actually say something as cold as that. Even for you, that was pretty harsh."

He didn't answer, so she kept on, however difficult it was.

"You know Yuuki, I may not like Kaori," she whispered calmly, as she gently set aside the dress in favor of yet another blank slate. Strange; she was already drawing, and she didn't even have a single idea as to what she could've done. "But that was so very cruel of you. Wasn't she your friend too?"

That same, soothing breathing greeted her.

Megumi resumed working, the patterns woven brilliantly through the twilight. Silhouettes decorated the curtains, with the vaguest senses passing by upon the outside. There that world was, down below, just waiting for yet another mundane day to disappear before their eyes. Kaori was probably down there too somewhere, going to high school, making friends, hanging out with her brother once in a while, jogging with Love around some friendly, albeit bustling neighborhood. There she'd stay, safe from harm, away from the turbulence the shiki managed to bring down upon her, both she and her brother. There she'd stay, with her own life, her own friends, her own family.

"Yuuki," she began, "did you think I'd kill her?"

* * *

Akira sighed frustratedly, staring off at the dim television screen. Soft zephyrs blew outside, the night wailing on with its distant, incoherent lullabies, all the while silence came through the isolated inside, a cold warmth coming through toward the boy. Yet another famous anime replayed its seasons, the plentiful holiday specials showing off their vibrant, unrealistic actions, romantic or otherwise. His blanket wrapped tightly around his body, smothering his flesh with warmth, while Love curled up beside him, his tiny back going up and down, up and down, the smooth procession alone enough for the boy to yawn.

Mr. Yuuki was gonna be late again, though he promised to pick up a few sandwiches along the way, the kind from those bakeries Akira always liked going to. Mori-san had just left; apparently, his mom got mad for him not cleaning his room. Kaori wasn't answering her phone, but he'd come to expect that. In fact, by now it'd be pretty strange if she answered at all, or if she even called back home.

No, Akira wasn't necessarily scared of being alone. He welcomed it even, recalling the plethora of people that got on his nerves one time or the other. But all the same, when he looked around that living room, noticing every shadow lurking from the cobwebs, every pale, luminescent ray for which the moonlight gave off, he couldn't help but feel the quiet was a bit too unnerving. Nothing from Sotoba came to mind, and not even the okiagari haunted him then. In fact, by now he might as well have forgotten everything related to them, aside from the disturbing nightmares awaiting him in sleep from time to time, as well as the helpful interrogation Toma put him through.

It was all so very strange. There'd be more noise, in Akira's opinion. Mr. Yuuki would be in the kitchen, cooking some other yummy meal for lunch or dinner. Kaori would be in her room, studying her butt of for the next test, trying to cram in more information to ace the still far off national exams. Akira was always watching them from the table, laughing at whatever they talked about, conversing with subjects that came to mind first, teasing his sister on how shy she was about confessing to a guy from school.

He closed his eyes, placing his head on his elbow, the strands falling over to his face. The weariness from the uneventful events today began taking their toil. Akira's finger twitched tiredly. He took a deep breath. He didn't even feel like going back to his own room, the thought of dinner dwelling from the depths of his mind. He wasn't going to miss something like that. No freaking way. He hardly ever got to see Mr. Yuuki anymore, and aside from Mori-san and his other friends, only Haru and Love kept him company.

Then he heard a knock on the door.

Akira shot up, shocking Love awake. The little dog yelped as Akira rushed toward the door, a bright smile on his face, while nearly tripping on the floorboards. He never bothered turning on the lights as he came through, slamming his body against the surface and unlocking the obstruction. He forced it open.

No one.

Akira warily came outside, his head peeking through the night. The street lanterns were lit; there were no shadows embedded outside the petite homes, no cars speeding away from some other crime scene. Although he saw clumsy footsteps scrambling away from the patio, the oversized shoes enough to make Akira wonder if a terrified monster somehow found its way to his house, in the end he was slightly saddened. He was about to go back inside when he noticed a large, white envelope staring up at him from the ground. He squinted his eyes, before seeing a large _Confidential _scrawled all over it. His lips slightly parted, as he bent down to pick up the package. He looked around once again, before coming inside and closing the door.

It was a huge disappointment, to say the least, though Akira's curiosity shrouded whatever shallow hurt that arose from the situation. Love trotted up to the boy, his paws scratching over his leg. He stretched his little body up, trying to sniff the package. He started growling.

Akira examined the package, and shrugged. It was probably just another one of Sasaki-sensei's stupid pranks. Teachers… weren't supposed to act this way with their students, right? The guy's, like, eighty or something. Doesn't he have anything better to do? A wife? Kids? Friends he go drinking with?

Probably not.

Akira sighed, as he walked back to the living room. His finger flicked open the light switch, the excessive gold immediately blinding him. He sat down on the living room floor, his soft, comfortable blanket fading from his attention, while his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Carefully, he opened the envelope, with Love slobbering on his knee, his tiny, beady eyes trying to see what kind of thing was inside the envelope. The growling was still there, vibrating conspicuously from his throat.

Akira glanced toward the dog warily, before brushing him off. "Stop it," the boy commanded.

Love ignored him.

Akira bit the inside of his cheek, as he pried open the envelope. His hand fished around in the somewhat empty space, when he felt something cool on his thumb. He narrowed his eyes, as he drew his hand out, revealing police files, documents, and even interrogation notes.

This was way too complicated for Sasaki-sensei.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Love slowly backing away, his menacing atmosphere becoming more and more vivacious. When the dog was a safe enough distance away, enough for the boy to know that, at least, Love would come and tear the whole thing up, Akira splayed the papers out on the floor, that neat little stack becoming a disorganized array. He leaned over, as he scanned through the plentiful pictures and photos. His eyes widened.

The villagers from Sotoba.

They were all staring up at him, smiling their usual smiles, doing whatever they had to do to keep their community well-fed, devoting themselves to one another without another word. Some were families, with squirming children running loose along the borders, while others were newly weds, trying to get into the feel of marriage without all the pain and suffering. Friends grinned with friends, classmates with classmates, and sometimes with the occasional stray animal or two, all of whom were running across the street. All their faces came back to him, and by then, Akira was shaking.

Slowly, he reached for one of the photos, when he caught sight of yet another unsettling detail. He bit his lip, as he grabbed it with one tiny gesture, bringing the neat stack of papers up to his eyes.

He saw names.

Some had checkmarks beside them, while others were angrily scratched out. A few names he managed to recognize, while others he couldn't. Attached to that file were spreadsheets, ones with numbers and graphs and charts and the like, something Akira usually shied away from. There were tiny smiley faces on the borders, as if endeavoring to show some vain approval for whatever observations the stranger had made. He gulped, before going back to the front, the villagers smiling up at him once more.

He sat the stack on his lap, as he settled back into his blanket. Toma was the only one who could've sent him these. He probably must've asked around in school where Kaori lived. And if that was the case, why couldn't the guy just call? He was friends with Kaori, right? If Toma was that desperate, couldn't he just come by himself? Surely there wouldn't be any problem with it.

But was the information really _that _controversial?

He stared back at the papers for a while, before beginning to go through the each one, trying to muster up whatever curiosity he had left to deal with the village. Underneath each photo was that same, dreaded statement written below, pertaining to the cause of death. Anemia, was scrawled all over the descriptions, and what appeared to be a death certificate was stapled to the bottom of the file.

Akira blinked; it didn't look like anything was out of place here. What exactly did Toma want him to do anyways? But before he could cast away the documents, he couldn't help but notice handwriting on the back. Slowly, he turned it over.

The words _rose up _shot back at him like an unpleasant alarm.

Beneath that statement was a date, a date when the victim had come back. Akira froze for a brief moment, then, with one, fluid motion, he started going through the pages one by one. Though the date was different, every single one of these photos had that same, horrifying statement. He looked back at the list of names again, going through each visible name, trying to find any correlation, anything at all. Unfortunately, there was none.

He went back to the photos then, anxiety clouding the lights in his eyes. He slammed the files down and went further into the stack, that same curiosity turning to a gruesome apprehension, along with a morbid interest as to what the police managed to uncover, what Toma managed to do with the evidence. By then, Love was lying on his belly, apparently comprehending the simple fact his master wasn't listening, the dog's own innocence striking up Akira's vastly disappearing one.

His thumb peered through the documents, as he recalled their conversation days before. Toma believed him. Toma actually believed him, and these were the results he was getting. Did he tell any other detective? What about the police? Did they know too? Or did he just do all this by himself? Well, knowing how smart Toma is, Akira wouldn't be surprised if the guy managed to come up with something like this on his own. He had no idea what the charts were for; maybe the results from the autopsies?

As Akira shifted through the bountiful files, he caught sight of yet a few other figures, people he's seen on the news. There was Mr. Saito, and that girl, Yuki, and even Mr. Hitoshi. The American foreigner was here too…

"Akira!" Mr. Yuuki called.

Akira popped up, as he endeavored hiding the papers from the man's sight. He was so focused on this stuff he hadn't even noticed Mr. Yuuki come through the door. Hastily, he shoved everything under his blanket, as Mr. Yuuki came walking into the den. A cautious smile grazed his face, as he held up a shopping bag with what Akira suspected to be three now cold sandwiches. "Hey, you didn't lock the door…Akira?"

"Y-yeah?" he asked, trying to imitate his somewhat amateurish facade. Love was already making his way over to Mr. Yuuki, rubbing his head against his leg.

"What're you doing?"

"N-nothing!" Akira shouted, as he stood, maneuvering himself in front of the man. If Kaori wasn't going to do anything, then he'll just have to go with Toma and do something about it. He can't just sit by and watch this go on, but he didn't want Mr. Yuuki getting involved either. Still, the thoughts didn't stop Mr. Yuuki from raising his own eyebrow, folding his arms in that intimidating manner. "Really?" he asked.

"R-really."


	67. Chapter 67

Blond hair blew easily throughout the strangely bustling neighborhoods, the remains of the holiday rush blowing over with little effort. The afternoon sun grazed the cool streets, with hints of light blue and contemplative, reflective grey, entwining beautifully with each other, forming a color that managed to give way to mundane, but unique reflections. He passed through the lively bodies surrounding the sidewalks, all of whom were preparing for yet another festival nearby. Tiny conversations sprouted throughout the environment, some pertaining to the murder that took place in some specific spot or another, others about the upcoming, unfortunate inevitability of school starting up again. Students dotted the grounds, vivacious laughter conquering whatever dark scandals hid beneath the ice, a testament to the desperate endeavors to try and squeeze out a tiny bit of fun still left from the year.

Haru walked steadily toward Tanaka's house, his hands hanging limply to his sides. He observed the surroundings nearby, entertaining his own paranoia with casual delusions that somehow, someway, the crowds managed to deliberately embrace. Scary faces appeared out of nowhere, frightening strangers eyeing him suspiciously as he crossed into the sidewalks. Humanoid creatures passed him, the subtle indifference forcing him to look away from the creatures' faces altogether, unable to handle those callous, cold eyes, eyes that would overlook whatever detail shattered their peaceful worlds, eyes that would judge without evidence, with little compassion thawed from their frozen hearts.

He shivered at their gazes, and pressed ahead, the hostility vibrating from along the somewhat hazy blue skies. He was there, he was drowning.

He was suffocating.

Haru narrowed his eyes when he saw the front porch. He stopped, a mere inch away from the door. He then raised his hand and knocked on the surface, looking back behind him to see if the hopeless suitor was there, lurking from within the tainted, willful audiences. It was a bit troublesome really. Ken was working in that stupid flower shop, wasn't he? Didn't he have better things to do than stalk some poor girl and her kid brother?

The door flew open.

Standing before Haru was Mr. Yuuki. Light, grey strands flickered over his bangs, with dark, sagacious eyes peeking out from his features. A few stray wrinkles came across his face, but other than that there was nothing that could erase his youthful appearance. He was wearing that same, green cooking apron, with an old, grey sweater underneath. The smell of fried fish poured from behind him, a warm, homey smell Haru couldn't help but admire. He gave the man a warm smile. "Hi sir."

The door opened wider. Though that hesitation was still there, Mr. Yuuki let Haru in, much to his relief. "Akira's in his room. How's Kaori, by the way?"

Haru thought for a moment, before shaking his head. "I'm sorry. She says she wants to stay at my place a bit more. But she's okay."

"Huh."

The boy took off his shoes and stepped onto the wooden floor. From the corner of his eyes, he caught the man's confused glare, one that vanished completely as he was confronting the civilized conversation. "Is she doing her homework, at least?"

"She is."

"Eating enough?"

"Of course sir."

"Teenagers," he muttered.

Haru blinked. "Is there…something wrong sir?"

"N-no, it's nothing." Mr. Yuuki turned around, and gave Haru a kind, albeit aggressive smile, something the boy couldn't help but examine. "Anyways, Akira's in his room. You can stay for lunch if you want. It's the least we can do."

Haru shrugged. "It's fine. I like having Tanaka-san around."

"I see," he said, folding his arms to his chest. "Kaori talks a lot about you at home. You're both really good friends, aren't you?"

"We are," he said. "She's helped me through a lot lately. I really like her."

Mr. Yuuki furrowed his eyebrows. He turned away then, waving a short farewell to Haru as he returned to the kitchen, his shoulders stiffening with each step taken. Haru could practically see the frustrations building within the man, as he grumbled, "How nice."

Haru stared back at Mr. Yuuki for a bit, the slight confusion causing him to ponder as to whether or not he was actually welcomed. However, he brushed the question aside, as he turned around and headed down the hall to his left.

A low, dim light had come piercing through the natural light, the orange rays slipping through a door crack to his right. He could make out Akira's oblivious silhouette then, the crumpled figure revealing a sleep-deprived boy who probably stayed up playing video games. Haru looked at the mesmerizing, nostalgic thing for a while, before slipping into darkness, turning away from that light and making his way into Tanaka-san's room.

It was neat, untouched, as it had been for the past few days. He looked around warily, the emptiness of it all slowly coming undone from beyond a certain facade he played off. His own shadow lay scattered over the walls, the very remnants of innocence lost beneath his corruptible influence. Her desk was there, as was her assignments, along with a few papers scattered around the floor. He caught the unkempt cobwebs resting in the corner, the balls of insects dangling from the silky threads of that unfortunate, starved spider, one that was already looking for its next meal.

He crept quietly around the bedroom, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the stray lines of a dress hanging limply on a closet door. After a few minutes of scrutinizing it, his eyes widened in pleasant surprise, a slow, warm smile forming on his face.

So, after all this time Kaori's still kept the dress. He couldn't help but wonder if she still wore it at times. It did look good on her, and ever since the school fashion show, she kept talking about Miyuki-san this, Miyuki-san that. It was partially the reason why Haru allowed the two girls to meet; surely Kaori wouldn't hate someone who made such an exquisite, beautiful, morbid gift for her. Though reminders of the bloody Purge were enamored in the fibers, in the end Haru cheerfully overlooked that tiny mistake, if only for one, blossoming happiness gazing out at him.

But in the end, he had to drag himself away from the dress. He came over to her desk, and began searching through the papers. His eyes furrowed frustratedly, as unfinished assignments and perfect scores kept reappearing before his attention. He sighed, and knelt down. He pulled the drawers out; empty diaries, journals, but nothing at all pertaining to the refuge he spent so many nights building up. He crouched down and checked underneath the bed, before removing a few of the pillows and blankets. He stood, and spun away, scanning the room for any other hiding places.

Nothing.

* * *

He flinched at the golden rays, as he stroked his pupils wearily. He took a deep breath, and sat back in his chair, his muscles aching at the very mention of yesterday. His wiry hair limped from his skull, and though it wasn't intentional, he managed to bite back a yawn. He looked back down again, his fluorescent lightbulb beginning its irritating flickering.

There was Love, who was sleeping on his lap, curled in that warm, annoying way of his, totally unaware of the stresses that reality bombarded Akira with. It's true Kaori was his mistress, but at the very least the dog could pay _some _attention to Akira. It's not often she comes home now, and even if she did he doubted she'd take Love for his now long-awaited reward, the patience already souring.

He rubbed his temples. Akira stayed up all night reading, the documents and profiles swirling around his mind dizzily. Names kept mixing with numbers, words and letters creating an unpleasant amalgam of confusion and frustration. Villagers he was supposed to recognize suddenly shattered his brain, replacing the memories with scientific facts. The autopsies immediately conjured up their own, sufferable jargon into the mix. And even after all his efforts, Akira still had no idea what he was looking at, the graphs alone throwing away whatever common sense he had left from Sotoba.

Perhaps the only thing he _could _understand were the dates. As for the checkmarks and scratches…that alone frustrated Akira to no end. He didn't know what to make of it. At first, he thought that perhaps they were shiki who escaped from the village, who were still alive and were now wreaking havoc on Tokyo. But Toma said that aside from Natsuno and Megumi, their bodies were accounted for.

And as for the maps…Akira didn't think Sotoba was such a big place. The village was laid out in a grid, the tiny squares encompassing each detail for which he recognized some notable landmarks. Some of the squares were shaded in with red marker, while the rest were left blank. If Akira squinted, he could see a few of the body bags just lying there, waiting for someone to pick them up. Maybe the investigators were trying to see how many people died? Like…_really _died? Was this their way of counting them? Who knows?

He looked down at Love then, before leaning over his desk and laying his forehead against his arms. He was probably going to have to go back to the police station. But what would Toma think? It hasn't even been three _days_ and Akira was already so confused. He probably even expected Akira to know all this by now. Isn't that why he gave him the information?

To top it off, he was so tired, and sleepy, and irritable. Even with that familiar, delicious scent of salmon flooding every corner in his room, the meal just wasn't enough to soothe the boy's nerves. He wasn't sure if he could see anyone today either; the fact he was already drifting away was a testament to how fatigued he was.

If only Kaori was helping him…

"Akira?"

The boy jolted from his seat and spun around. "H-Haru!"

"Hey man. You've uh…you've got a little…" His finger pointed to a very embarrassing section on Akira's cheek. Hastily, he wiped the drool away, and sighed sheepishly. "S-sorry."

Haru stared at Akira for a bit, before smirking. "What happened to you? You look like something off Hiruko the Goblin."

"I um…" he began, a bit distracted by the still sleeping dog on his lap. Haru chuckled when Love started slobbering all over his knee. Akira grimaced, though the scowl was cut short by a very deep yawn. "I didn't…get a lot of sleep."

"Bad dream?"

Akira thought for a moment, as he turned back to the papers, his already tormented brain reminiscing on the muddled corpses from the depths of his mind. "Yeah, I guess."

"Huh. Hey, I just came by to check up on you. Kaori wanted to know if you were doing okay."

Akira scoffed. "No. Tell her Love's gotten old and fat and lazy."

"You're an irritable little boy today," Haru observed playfully. He took another step forward, that same, amiable atmosphere diffusing into the air. "Was it one of those scary nightmares?"

"You could say that. What about you? How's everything with you?"

"Fine. Your sister will be fine, alright? Just try and get some rest."

"Hah," Akira whimpered pathetically, as Haru went over and sat on the edge of his dark blue bed, the warm sheets eagerly inviting the tiny boy back into the covers. However, Akira turned away, a stern, yet helpless look decorating his features. "She's not answering. And right now, Mr. Yuuki's really pissed."

"It's not surprising though," Haru replied. "I mean, she's family, right?"

"I just wish she'd tell us…something. She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

Much to Akira's disappointment, Haru shook his head. "Sorry, she didn't. Give her some time though. I'm sure she'll tell you soon."

Akira thought back to his sister's secluded behavior, her strange demeanor. She didn't want to go to the police about the okiagari, didn't want to tell anyone about what was happening to Mr. Yuuki. What would've happened, he wondered, if they actually came to someone about it? Surely Toma would've believed them then.

He looked up, gripping Love's small body tightly. "I wouldn't think so."

"Come on-"

"It's true. I mean, even Love thinks so!" he exclaimed, his hand coming toward the dog's peacefully bored face. "Look at him! Now all he ever does is eat, sleep, and fart!"

"Akira, it's cold out," Haru explained, as his eyes curiously wandered over to the boy's desk. "He's probably just hibernating or something."

Akira squinted his eyes as Haru leaned over, tracing over the documents. "It's not funny."

"I didn't say it was. A lot of animals I read about tend to do that."

"He looks so sick though."

"Aww, the kindhearted dog lover finally appears."

Akira felt a brief flash of heat across his face, and he turned away. "Shut up."

"So what's all this? Looks like some kind of sci-fi movie-"

"What?" Akira snapped, stealing a look down at the desk. He blinked, before shifting panically through the various lies lying nearby that shallow surface of his own brain. "Oh, yeah. It's actually a horror…movie…"

"Horror?" Haru asked, laughing lightly as he shifted through the various papers, papers Akira wanted to snatch out of his fingers. Haru had nothing to do with this. Damn it; Akira shouldn't even have had these papers out in the _first _place. Sleep was a good thing, after all. "I didn't think you'd be brave enough for something like that. You doing something on…zombies?"

"N-no! No um…my friend actually wanted to look into monsters. He wanted to make it look really believable, so he asked me to get a few things for him…"

Haru blinked surprisingly, before looking back down. Carefully, he began flipping through the papers, his eyes barely containing his disinterest, though he managed to feign a polite smile. "I don't know what Kaori's gonna think about this. She might want to help-"

"It's fine," he said quickly.

"What? Why?"

"Kaori's not…really into stuff like that," he answered reluctantly, knowing full well what would happen should she involve herself. He wasn't in the mood for anymore secrets, but neither was he going to drag anyone else into this mess, if only for the satisfaction of being acknowledged that he was right all along. "So…yeah. Just don't tell her about it, okay?"

"O-okay," Haru said, as he looked back down at the files. He stared at the grids for a little more, before neatly stacking them in the corner of Akira's desk. "Hey, can I get a little advice?"

"Huh? What about?"

"I think someone's really mad at me." he stated then. Before Akira could interrupt, Haru held up his hand. "No, not Tanaka-san. Someone else from school."

What? Who could possibly be mad at Haru? He's, like, the greatest guy ever, though Natsuno still would've beaten him. "What'd you do?" he asked tiredly.

"Nothing much. He just doesn't like me."

"Is it Ken?"

"Surprisingly, no." he chuckled awkwardly, as he scratched the back of his head. "If I don't do something, I think he's going to do something really drastic."

"Then fight back!"

"What?"

Akira clenched his fists, as he rapidly stood up, causing Love to fall to the floor. The dog yelped painfully, as his head bobbed up and down, his tail shooting straight up in alarm. "Look!" he shouted, making Love bark again, the alarm slowly entrenched in his beady pupils. "If the guy's that much trouble, then do something about it! But you really shouldn't listen to someone like that! They aren't good for anything but putting people down."

"What an odd thing to say."

Akira blinked, the shadows returning to his eyes. "What? You asked, didn't you?"

"I did. Sorry," Haru said awkwardly, chuckling at the boy's sudden outburst. "I should've expected something like that from you. You really are Tanaka-san's brother, huh?"

"Of course I am!" he stated haughtily. "Without me, Kaori would probably be hiding underneath a rock most of the time. She's always such a goodie-goodie."

All the while, Akira never noticed the frosty smile plastered upon Haru's face, nor did he hear the quiet growl that arose from a still sleepy Love.


	68. Chapter 68

Kaori stared at the cafe, a wool scarf wrapped delicately around her neck. The afternoon sun bore its frigid rays on her back, her dark, blue shadow dancing lightly upon the hard, grey ground. Her eyes scanned the plethora of golden vines, wrapped delicately around the words, the welcoming, enchanting atmosphere alone causing her to peer through the windows, the food alone a refuge from her torrential feelings. She shivered in the cold, and though her curiosity alone proved little worth, in the end she was gripped her jacket, closed her eyes, and walked into the cafe.

It was bustling, that magical restaurant out in the middle of nowhere. If she crept a bit closer, she could make out the customers here, all of whom sharing that same blissful air, all of whom the same pride of living out their lives. There were those two women from the department stores just down the road. They were here, as was the accountant from that high-rise foreign company, and that vendor salesman, the one from the mall. Game store clerk, comic book guy, everyone here, enjoying a simple lunch despite their busy schedules.

No matter where she wandered, her aimless soul drifting about place to place, in the end those were the same people she kept seeing. The same cliques dotted the cafe tables, at the same time, with the same waiters and waitresses all alined, ready to serve their masters and mistresses slavishly, all the while flaunting themselves to their own little worlds, ready to go home at the blink of sunset.

It was all surreal really. To think Kaori would see this world again was enough for thought. She couldn't tell if she was comforted or repulsed by them, and though her insignificant opinion wasn't enough to stop her doubts, she still pondered on that reaction.

She made a beeline to that table sitting in the corner, the one coated with normalcy and mundanity. The chairs were warm from the beams, and since the heater was just above the tiny thing, it could very well have been a safe haven for the girl. Her cellphone was off, the troublesome vibrations barely avoided, and since she didn't have anything else to do, she simply came to that table, set her schoolbag down, sat there, and waited.

Will Natsuno come today?

She couldn't tell.

It'd been about two weeks since she saw Megumi. Even after all that time, she still couldn't believe it. She couldn't force herself to acknowledge their survival. She just…couldn't. It was as if her own ghosts came back from those painful, haunting memories, the nightmares falling short of their own lachrymose.

No, she wasn't panicking. She wasn't crying, or begging for someone to come as she had before. Scared, frightened, terrified; nothing at all. Rather, she asked herself how she should dive into this dream, how she should deal with a horrific illusion that lusted after her own sanity, her own, stable self, however wrong that delusion was. So she shifted through her turbulence, Kaori. She closed her eyes once more, and thought back.

Personally, the only thing that surprises her was how nonchalantly Megumi had taken all of this. She wasn't at all phased by what happened, during that massacre, wasn't terrified of the beast that'd attacked just a weeks ago. She wasn't laughing, trying to come up with ways to escape yet another undesirable reality, one she tried so hard to replace.

Nothing, if Kaori could describe it. An empty, ghostlike shell that could do little to alleviate the suffering their victims had agonized before them, all the while praying for a relief that would never come, grasping toward a light that had already rejected them, redemption escaping their fingers by mere inches.

It was as if Megumi…had already died.

Kaori didn't think Megumi would try and attack her again. If anything, she probably wanted to be left alone, going from place to place, attempting in living out the life she could never attain. Perhaps that was what those sketches on the table were for. The dresses, the costumes, the wiry mannequins scattered all over the floors. Maybe that was what she was trying to do; move on.

Was that, then, why she was crying?

The question bombarded Kaori for days now, consuming her thoughts, her reasoning, but never her emotions or sympathy. No, the killer was too coldhearted for that. That same old friend she thought she had from Sotoba carried off the presence of mayhem and chaos. She could see those scarlet, feral eyes, taunting her, mocking her for the very reasons left unsaid. That spoiled haughtiness haunted the monster's tone, grazing it with a lustful vanity Kaori knew she had to forget, lest she descend that crimson, sinful chasm.

Kaori could let go of that fight; perhaps she could even convince herself that it never happened. She could live on with her life, trying to get out of the city, trying to stay in another rural place where only friendly faces peeked out from beneath the shadows. She could go back to living with Akira and Mr. Yuuki and Yasuhiko-san, and even Ken-kun, if she wanted to. She might work with animals, kind of like a veterinarian or something fancy like that. She could travel, before settling down in a village like Sotoba, a kind of tribute to the funeral procession that was still being carried out.

And what if she chose over those delusions, if she chose the fact that Megumi was here, alive and well, what about Natsuno? What did he think of Kaori, after all this time? What made him want to lie to her like that? And to try and kill her, without the slightest reservations…

Was he hungry, maybe…?

He was so different now, so callous and cruel, a desperate thing squirming underneath scrutinizing eyes. Even with the bruises plainly slighted on her neck, she refused to even look at them, refused to acknowledge their painful presence. It was as if there'd yet another secret Kaori was dragged into, a scandal she couldn't help but take comfort in, though it may destroy her in the end.

Megumi was never the type to say what she really felt, and Natsuno was cynical enough to know not to take every word she said seriously. But then again, Kaori couldn't help but feel there was something more to it, something else she was missing along the fray. If Megumi wanted to be left alone, she wouldn't have gone and said how much she hated Kaori.

She stayed entrenched in her thoughts, a small, tiny frown grazing her features. She watched the afternoon sun pass away, a tiny notion of night beginning to entwine within her content setting. Strands of dark hair fell over from her face, cold eyes reflecting the obliviousness to the conversations so easily surrounding her. Rumors, gossip, whispers from one ear to another, talking about the latest tragedy that was slighted to appear, the future devastation one killer had wrecked upon the somewhat innocent city.

That's right; laugh. Laugh at those sickening monstrosities while sitting there, doing nothing at all to destroy the sorrow. Laugh at the pain from where the shadows agonize over, if only for the simple sake of a twisted, humorous fairytale no one else cared to know, or understand. Laugh away the trials this society put Kaori through, the merciless bullying echoing through the depths of her mind without as much as a single tear cascading from the bend. The girl knew she had no place here, that much Kaori could understand, and it was perhaps the only thing she might've actually detested at this point.

She clutched her fingers tightly, when she caught wind of familiar footsteps coming toward her. She only had to look up to see a quiet, contemplative reflection walking to her, black holes for eyes, the regret cascading from him deliberately, readily. She bit her lip then, some form of emotion arising from the mindless thoughts swirling around her brain.

"Natsuno-"

"I know," he interrupted softly. He paused for a moment, before leaning over and placing a small, tiny muffin in front of her, his pale fingers appearing from the corner of her eyes. He sat himself across from her, holding water in one hand. A checkered jacket covered his torso, with a black, oversized sweater that emphasized his own body. Purple strands fell toward his gaze, covering what little candid emotions he had upon his otherwise unreadable expression. "She told me everything."

"Are you… living with her?"

"For the time being."

For the time being.

Kaori shook herself awake, trying to find anything else to say, doing what she could to keep the awkwardness at bay. He was here. _He was really here._

"How's…the company…?" she asked quietly, her voice faltering at the gruesome scenes. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "How's the company?" she repeated.

Natsuno stared at her for a moment, the darkness examining whatever was left from that demonic madness. Finally, he spoke, frustration permeating within his tone. "It's ruined. That name's been dragged through the mud and Shimizu's still doing Sapporo."

Kaori looked up, surprise claiming her pupils. "So…so Megumi's-"

"-one of the designers," he finished. He settled back in his chair, weary lines drawn across his face. "She's the one who won your school's fashion show."

So Miyuki-san…was really Megumi? And the dress she wore…the one during the fashion show…and the friends Haru kept going on and on about…

"You did a good job staying alive," Natsuno continued, brushing aside her confusion. "Both you…and Shimizu."

"Why are you staying with her?" Kaori asked slowly. "I thought…I thought you-"

"Someone's after us."

"What?"

"Someone's after us, so we decided to stay together until he died."

Kaori gulped. She clutched her knee tightly, willing herself to say something, anything, to end the silence, though the shock claimed a majority of her will. She trembled; it seems she wasn't getting her wish after all. "What've…what've you two been doing?"

"Trying to find this guy."

So that was it. They were doing this because…because someone else was threatening them. Is that it? Is that all? She felt the relief coarse through her system, and though she didn't to look, she could feel the traces of a small, lonely smile tug at her lips.

"Strange."

Kaori blinked, her lips slightly parted. "W-what?"

"I didn't think you'd be this relaxed. I figured you'd try and kill me first before listening to anything I had to say."

"I…I don't-" she stammered, trying to find the words to pierce through the bile in her throat. But he shook his head. "It's fine. Besides, they're something I wanted to ask you-"

"What about Yasuhiko-san?"

Natsuno gazed at her, an unfamiliar expression flowing across his face. A few seconds later, his eyes darkened, and whatever genuine content he had along the midst instantly vanished. He closed his eyes. "Haru?"

"You know him," Kaori said, surprise clawing through her blood. "You know him. All this time, he's been talking nonstop about you! About you and Megumi!"

"Really?"

"Y-yes!" she stammered. "H-he adores you both!"

He examines Kaori for a while, before shoving the notion away completely. "I see," he said harshly.

She stared at him, all her enthusiasm immediately coming away from what she thought to be a joyous occasion. "He's…he's your friend, isn't he?"

"That's what I wanted to talk with you about. Both me and Shimizu would like for you to stay with him a little longer."

Kaori was taken back.

Megumi did? She couldn't even bring herself to care about her family, or the village, or even Kaori…but she could care about Yasuhiko-san?

Why?

_Why? _

Natsuno closed his eyes, a cold sigh escaping from his lips, as he attempted to grasp whatever thoughts Kaori carried. "It's hard to explain-"

"If she's so worried about Yasuhiko-san, why doesn't she protect _him _instead?" she demanded bitterly.

Natsuno stopped, a brief flash of pain coming through his face. Slowly, that ebony ebbed away from his corneas, the whites showing once more. Pure, piercing amethyst gazed back at her, a small corner of light softening his gaze. The sun started coming away from the skies then, and with that, a pale, sharp glimmer shattered the evening night, fluorescence growing throughout the cafe, the silence coming forth through some tragic ending. It's weird; Kaori hadn't even noticed the conversations eroding away, tiny glimpses of normality suddenly coming undone. It was as if time had left the two silhouettes, erasing the murderous cracks in place of yet another devious violence, albeit a bit nostalgic, melancholic, isolated.

She felt small then, in the midst of some reckless jury for which not even she could bring herself to join.

Natsuno turned way, his eyes staring out the window, out at the restless students, all of whom were now scrambling home if only to avoid yet another scolding. "Do you want to live?"

Kaori stiffened. "I…I-"

"Then stay with Haru."

* * *

Warm sunlight draped over his skin, his body happily engulfing whatever light it could throughout the dark, morning mist. Tiny shadows danced around his tiny, pattering feet, as he swiftly made his way across the meadows. Dew stained his ankles, with bits of grass and flowers latched onto his toes. Across his vision, blurs of light verdant trees dotted the field, entrenched within an aromatic scent, a scent that painted the golden light in a charismatic, albeit immature, jubilance. Petals of pink and white flashed through his body, the cattails nearby swaying to his asymmetric rhythm. Arms outstretched, hair flying away from his face, he kept up his moving, kept up his hold on during the summer.

He was chasing someone, the helpless shadow inviting him in for yet another lovely playdate. A white sundress decorated her body, her shoes cast away in some unfortunate river. There was a radiant smile upon her face, and when he saw that smile, he kept up his jeering, his sneering, the playful teasing already signifying for yet another competition.

She was singing something. She was singing something within that morning, the golden rays piercing through the ominous clouds overhead. A gentle, cool breeze blew across his face as he played with her, never taking notice of how quickly the pendulum moved.

She tripped over a tiny hole, and fell, the girl. He grinned widely, before speeding up, his small lungs persevering through that burning sensation. He stopped, a mere few centimeters away, as he grabbed her wiry hand and held it in his own. He smiled, happily taking in the disappointment on her face.

He helped her stand. She pushed him down, and started running again, the sore loser. He grimaced at the action, before racing toward her again, his fists clenched, his eyes wide by the fact that somehow, someway, his playmate was cheating.

There was a red picnic blanket set up somewhere; red, with blue tiles around the edges, and a flower in the middle. There was a basket in the center, with a lot of bread and meat and candy. Soda, water, sandwiches too. They were all there, waiting for the children to be done with their never-ending game, if only to be consumed along the horizon of the rising sun. Ants were busily trying to get onto the blanket, trying to make off with the precious treasures, and though the morsels cried out to their oblivious masters, in the end, they simply sat there, forcing themselves to be content with their impatience.

There were people there too, a man and a woman. Husband and wife, he thinks, considering how close they were sitting next to one another. They were both smiling, gazing out at the happy kids, hand in hand. They were there, wearing white, with soft hair flowing through the breeze. They never joined the children in their procession, never had that same exciting spark in their eyes, but all the same, there they were, protecting them, shielding them from reality's grip.

The boy swirled around when he was tired. He panted heavily, as he stared at his still running friend, who was, as of this point, sticking her tongue out and watching him carefully, trying to predict the tricks he would use to get her. The scheme wasn't obvious to the boy, but all the same, whenever he moved forward, she'd take two steps back, haughtily laughing at how slow he was. He would wince, before firing out choice words of his own. And she'd stand there, shocked at how the playful afternoon soured so quickly.

The couple called them in. All traces of that disappointment would vanish, and they would run toward the adults, the thought of food finally dashing across their fragile minds. Mama burned the ham again, but if you peel away the burnt parts, it still tastes good. Dad forgot to clean the salad. Auntie thankfully packed marshmallows, crackers too, and chocolate. Here's a drink for you, and you, and you…

Toma opened his eyes.

He was lying in a broken chapel, somewhere in the mountains. Shards of stained glass covered the rotting floorboards, the ash-stricken pews all demolished through color and fire. Candle rims lay abandoned in the corners, the mold already setting in, the harshness unraveling at the seams. Cobwebs formed beyond the broken branches and twigs, with spoiled berries falling beyond the shadows. Humidity latched onto his skin, the painless predicament unraveling beyond his memories, and with that, the jinrou was alone.

In the background, he could make out the soft, melodic patter the rain induced. Darkness sheltered him steadily, and soon, he found himself watching the drops falling below, seeping through the black, widening cracks. A soft, grayish blue followed suite around him, the twilight giving way neither to starlight nor moonlight, but to a deep, despairing niche hidden somewhere within those thoughts. He looks up, the black coming away, giving rise to a certain emerald, one that reflected the world around him, no matter how ugly, no matter how beautiful. There he sat, his back leaned against the wall, as he closed his eyes and listened to the symphony.

A baby bird fell out of its nest. Predators were surrounding it.

The creatures were prowling the village, taking shelter beneath the once peaceful homes. Investigators were screaming, trying desperately to escape with whatever calm they had left. Bullets fired. Howls, screeches, prayers, all of them unanswered.

Sweat came from their panicked bodies, both humans and creatures. Blood fell away from limbs, arms scattered, eyes gorged out, hearts staked, heads gone. Tears cascaded down eyes, the confusion slowly giving way to a primitive mayhem only Yasuhiko-sama could understand.

Yes, that's right.

Not even Toma could make sense of this.

Yet throughout the chaos, Toma simply sat there. He pulled his legs toward his chest, and opened his eyes. He stared out at the vastly disappearing flashlights, mesmerized at how easily the destruction came through. He was enchanted by it all, admiring the way they all remained, the envy taking precedence in his thoughts. He gave it all a tiny, empty smile.

"Amber, what'd you think?"

No one answered.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ms. Kankoshi was the demon nurse from the beginning of the story. Her name 'Kankoshi' means nurse in Japanese.


	69. Chapter 69

The first thing he saw was a jacket.

It was sitting on the couch, resting lazily while its mistress busied herself with yet another one of her creations. It was velvet black, with a tiny, silver chain peeking out from the pocket, the merciless ticking from the clock hidden beneath immediately gaining his attention. The sleeves were torn, and the edges were a bit long, but other than that, that same, graceless elegance shimmered from it. There wasn't a tailcoat wrapped beneath the fabric, nor were there any see-through designs draping down the sleeves. It wasn't as ostentatious as her other outfits; in fact, it looked like something anyone could wear, especially during a month like this. No skulls, no macabre, and aside from the eerie feel it gave off, it seemed Miyuki's fans would swarm over this new creation. There was a certain elegance to it, a professionalism that blossomed from the tortures of maturity.

Carefully, Natsuno surveyed the now flustered studio. His footsteps broke whatever chains were left scattered around the jacket, along with tiny black bits of cloth that kept reappearing every so often. Streams of paper flowed through the floor, the plethora of outfits covering every inch of the once spotless, disorganized mess. Colored pencils rolled around here and there, along with pens and pencils that simply observed their childish counterparts, barely resisting the temptation of joining in the playful procession. All the while documentation detailing festivals, meetings, anything of that mundane, business world carefully adorned the makeshift playground, their words immediately gaining his attention with dates and shows and the like. Financial statements, checks, anything that had to do with the realm of normalcy instantly came before him.

Slowly, he looked up. The evening sunset peeked through the heavy gossamer curtains, none of which reached the shiki working so diligently on the table. Pink hair strands peaked underneath her bangs, her scarlet pupils trying to keep track of the premature, flourishing future in front of her. Heavy shadows lined underneath her eyes, and when he walked closer, he could even see the small, weary aching entwined between her shoulders. He shut the door, knowing full well Shimizu was too busy to notice him.

And honestly, it wasn't surprising. Just a few days ago, Shimizu received a very big check, not just from Shakunetsu no Bara, but from Fawn Industries as well. Accompanying it was a full report on the gift, as well as a cover letter as to why she alone was worthy of such a humorless present. It was compensation, apparently, for the psychological and physical damage done to her, a bribe that'd keep Shimizu from pressing charges against the two companies. Coupled with the income they received from the yakuza, they were secure. Neither of them wanted to talk with what to do with the money, and though it provided luxuries for their abnormal lifestyle, in the end the wealth was worthless.

But it was useful, in some ways.

Natsuno narrowed his eyes, as he strolled over toward Shimizu, flickering his gaze from one document to the next. It was perhaps the first time he saw so many designs, but he had to admit it was a refreshing change from the police reports he's kept scrutinizing for the past months. He leaned over. "Shimizu."

She jumped. Quickly, she spun around, her eyes wide with paranoia, before sighing breathlessly. "Yuuki."

"You need to eat every now and then," he reminded callously, his attention wandering over to the latest of her creations. "Is that for Sapporo?"

Her shoulders relaxed, while a sheepish frown tugging at her lips. She shook her head, much to his surprise. "It's for some pop star in America. She got invited to an award show, and she needed to look good for the after party."

Natsuno straightened then. Slowly, he turned away, and went towards the curtains, unveiling them if only to reveal the wastes from behind. "You're still taking jobs after all this."

"There's nothing else to do," she answered. Silence permeated between the two, as she fumbled awkwardly with her fingers. "I didn't feel like sleeping either."

"You did all this by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't think you'd be so diligent about this."

Shimizu closed her eyes, the tension, once again, coming back to the atmosphere. Finally, she hunched over, and continued working. "Did you talk with Kaori?"

Natsuno flickered his gaze toward her, the restlessness in her voice alone enough for him to hear her concern. There was neither jealousy nor anger attached to it, but rather, a detached, nameless emotion that wormed its way through her tone. She wasn't asking for his sake, but for her own, only to satisfy a still struggling part of that dying humanity left over from the massacres. He settled against the window frame. "I did."

She stiffened. "I see."

He stared at her for a moment, before shrugging. "She seemed relieved, that you were alright."

"And how's Haru?" she dismissed coldly.

"He's fine." Natsuno answered quietly. "They both like each other."

The scratching stopped, the expectant surprise weaving through Shimizu's shocked expression. Her fingertips froze, with charcoal imprints covering the side of her hands. Natsuno took note of it, before continuing on. "If Haru thinks Kaori's his friend, he won't hurt her. The same goes for Akira."

"You trust him that much, huh?"

"You do too."

Shimizu clenched her fists, her nails piercing through her skin without the slightest of hesitation. It wasn't long before that familiar scent diffused throughout the room, the crimson marking down a tiny, decadent trail. She chuckled emptily. "Haru actually sent us money. I still can't believe it."

Natsuno closed his eyes. It wasn't hard to believe really; Haru was only one person Natsuno could think of that would do something as grand as that, if only for the sake of another. Even when Natsuno treated him as coldly as he did, for some reason, Haru just kept up his devotion, doing whatever he could to please Shimizu financially, all the while clinging to Natsuno with all his might, desperately trying not to let go of his haunting shadow. What his relationship to Toma was is something the jinrou was attempting to sort out, but other than that, the pieces fit together, in that same, troubling way anything else would've, a tiny phrase in a morbid prose he hadn't wanted to exist in the first place. Haru's recent behavior, Asaka's death, Kaori's sudden involvement…

But why?

And what of those creatures? What was Haru planning on doing with them anyways? Did he just let them loose in Tokyo all of a sudden? Did he see what'd happened at Shimizu's company, what his careless mistake had costed the both of them? What was his goal anyways?

Yet even after all that, Natsuno knew Haru long enough that he'd never drag Kaori into this. He'd probably try and keep both the Tanakas from finding out anything. There were some hints of lingering depression, even now, and as of this point, the boy couldn't afford to lose any friends, for fear of a degrading psyche. It was that psychological weakness that ensured Kaori's safety, and though Shimizu didn't want to admit it, in the end there was no way around it.

He shifted his gaze toward the ceiling. He could feel Tooru's stare boring his back, along with Ritsuko, and Masao, and all the other villagers. Yet he brushed them aside, the corruptible isolation taking fold from the depths of his blackened heart. That burning worry grazed the atmosphere, the somewhat obvious affection taking hold of the silhouettes. "If you're that worried, why don't you ask her yourself?" he suggested.

Shimizu paused. "Is that some kind of joke?"

"No."

Shimizu scoffed stubbornly. "It's better if we stay out of each other's way. I mean, it's not like I want to see her either. She feels the same way."

"She wants answers."

"I'm not going to lie."

"Why?"

"She doesn't need to know about stuff like this," she dismissed, continuing callously with the design.

His pupils fixed themselves on that jacket once more. "Are you just going to let her wander around then? Vulnerable and helpless, until she stumbles into another deathtrap?You might not be there next time."

"…I didn't save her because I wanted to."

"I know."

"You know?"

From the corner of his eyes, Natsuno could make out the piercing light behind her eyes, her enraged pupils conveying every painful memory her shallowness could possibly think of. All the while, those familiar monsters stood where they were, beckoning him with each gesture they made, inviting him with their mourning elegies. Despair filled their eyes, tears cascading down their cheeks, as they endeavored to stave off the inevitable end of nothingness. There they all were, their repetitive words falling away from him.

Funny, how pointless they all seemed from here, staring at him from behind Shimizu's body.

"She's just like you," he began. "Hopeful, enthusiastic, annoying…"

"Funny," she said sarcastically. She turned back, grumbling miserably like she would whenever she tried hiding something. Her nimble fingers resumed their designing, doing whatever they could to try and block out his stare, a suspicious, crimson blush slowly creeping from behind her neck. She examined the new design for a while, before standing.

Carefully, she trekked over the streams of fabric, nearly tripping over the ribbons and metal, before grabbing hold of the jacket on that strange, wiry mannequin. She hissed when she stepped on the a stray tack, grabbing her toes painfully.

"What're you doing?" Natsuno asked curiously.

"W-what does it look like?" Shimizu snapped, the embarrassment easily showing through. "The fabric's over there."

"You're really going to hop over there? Skin's closing."

"Crap," she hissed, as she lifted her foot and forcefully removed the tack from that cold, stinging flesh.

The villagers watched on, silently observing the outsiders that ruined them so easily.

Natsuno paid them no mind.

* * *

Akira walked into the police station, the loneliness bombarding his senses from the moment the cold disappeared. Darkness came through his vision, and when he looked around, the silhouettes desperately rushing away. He stayed at the doorway for a while, before readjusting his scarf and making his way toward the front desk. He placed the white folder on the surface carefully. That note told him to set it here, right? That should be enough.

Akira stepped back, his eyes wandering through the midst of the empty office. In a way, it was creepier than that building from the arts district. The autopsies from Sotoba didn't help either, considering every time he closed his eyes, he'd see okiagari there, waiting patiently for him to fall asleep, ready to strike when ignorance graced his life. Their wide, horrific eyes still terrified him, so much so he had to have Love sleep in his bed. Sometimes, he would even creep near Mr. Yuuki's room, stay in the hallway, and rest there, at least until morning. He didn't want to go back to his bedroom; practically anything could hide there.

Slowly, he stared up at the clock; he had some time left, didn't he? Mr. Yuuki wasn't expecting him until later, and it wasn't like Kaori was around to see anything anymore. Besides, Love was probably just napping like he always does, nestled somewhere near the futon, eating leftover food from last night's hotpot.

He sighed, as he shoved his hands into his jacket. He's tried calling Toma numerous times. Usually, the lady at the front desk would either say he wasn't available, or he was at school, or whatever else excuses she could come up with. It's weird; Toma said he'd take Akira seriously, didn't he? Was he avoiding him or something? No, that couldn't be it. Why else would he give him the files?

Akira bit the inside of his cheek. He's managed to figure a few of the puzzling decryptions out, though the graphs threw him off for a little bit. In his opinion, it kind of looked like an experiment or something. Sotoba was gridded, so the red circles were probably where they've investigated. A majority of the corpses were found within those circles too, so that might be something. He tried finding a correlation between the autopsies and the checkmarks, but there was absolutely nothing. Plethoras of tables and charts attacked his vision, with little abbreviations he couldn't even begin to understand, and with that, he resigned himself from the daunting task. This was way too hard for him to handle. One of those doctors maybe, but anyone else…?

Quietly, he crept through the station, overlooking the subtle, icy surfaces the table shrouded themselves around. Aside from a few stray files scattered on the floors, the environment consisted only of eerie perfection. Dust dared not cover the tiled floors, the smooth reflections staring back up at him, his tired face a testament to the new, conforming pressures of the city. A bright yellow jacket adorned over his dreary school uniform, along with a crumbled schedule slowly evoked from his pocket, the classes already bringing back the dreadful reminder of tomorrow's newest challenges.

Kaori was still acting stupid. Just this morning, she left without saying anything, leaving an abundance of leftovers the household neither needed nor wanted. Mori-san wasn't in any of Akira's classes, nor were any of his friends, and as a result, he was the only one left to endure Sasaki-sensei's torturous treatment. Sure, he was a good teacher, but he was just so boring Akira couldn't help but fall asleep. It wasn't the most sophisticated thing to do, but what else could he have done? It was too late to transfer out of that class, and it's not like Akira could just stay at home, right? Besides, Mr. Yuuki had enough to deal with, and Akira didn't want to add any of his troubles on his plate.

He walked toward one of the papers then. He bent down out of sheer curiosity, and examined the contents. The blank slate simply stared back up at him. The boy set it down, as he closed his eyes wearily, the loud howling blowing just behind him.

Honestly, he didn't want to go outside, and though he knew what waited for him at home, he just couldn't bring himself to trudge the gales. He was practically shivering at the thought of attacking the cold gales, doing whatever he could to stay aloft. Who knows when his sister might be home anyways?

"Hello?"

Akira nearly screamed.

He spun around, and found an old woman standing there, with an confused frown plastered on her face. She wore a pink, wool shawl around her shoulders, her neat, grey hair tied back with a white chrysanthemum laid barren on her right ear. A fluffy white jacket decorated her small, frail body, her tiny arms covering herself tightly, doing everything she could to stave off the nonexistent frost. A small envelope rested beneath her arms, covered partially by the soft fabric warming her flesh. Her skin was a light, pale blue, but Akira thought nothing of it, knowing full well the morbid colors a day like this brings out.

Akira breathed an easy sigh, as he relaxed. He scratched his head awkwardly, trying to play off his paranoia. "S-sorry," he said apologetically, all the while forcing out a harsh chuckle. "I didn't think anyone else was here…"

"It's fine," she whispered quietly. "We were just about to close anyways."

Well, that explains a lot of things. Akira shifted his gaze towards the white folder resting on the desk. "Hey, I dropped something off on the front desk. Is um…is that-?"

The lady smiled gently. She shuffled toward the desk, her tiny footsteps rebounding throughout the walls. "You don't need to worry. I'll take care of it. What's your name?"

"Akira," he stated proudly. "Akira Tanaka."

"Akira…" the lady whispered, a far off look on her face. At an instant, she brightened. "Akira Tanaka?"

"Yeah." he replied, nodding approvingly at the woman's understanding.

"That's right," she laughed lightly. "Toma told me all about you."

Akira's eyes widened, the flattering notion already entwining within his features. "R-really?"

"Yes. Ever since you left, he couldn't stop talking about you. He was incredibly excited. Thank you for that."

He shook his head. "No way. He's helped me out too. And we're friends, so-"

"Friends?" the lady murmured. After a brief, reflective pause, a content smile came upon her lips then. She shuffled the envelope out from beneath her arms. "What lovely things, friends. Toma wanted to apologize for not talking with you-"

Akira shook his head, trying to brush aside the unintentional burden he managed to cause. "N-no! It's fine! Just tell him to keep doing what he's doing, alright? I-I should actually be thanking him-!"

The old lady giggled wholeheartedly, the warmth trickling down from her tone. "No need."

Gently, she lifted the boy's hand, and softly pressed the envelop against Akira's palm. "Toma wanted you to have this. 'Read it any time you want' he said."

Akira blinked. He stared at the thing in his hand for a brief second, before looking back up. "Um, do you know where he is now? Toma, I mean?"

"Investigating Sotoba," she answered simply, as she walked toward the desk. She pulled the documents into her arms and pressed them against her chest. "You shouldn't worry about him. He's strong, after all."

"R-right," Akira whispered softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't even get your name. What's-?"

"Okada," she replied. "He wanted me to let you know I'm in on it too."

Akira's jaw dropped.

What? Toma said he wouldn't tell anyone else. Akira himself swore to that oath, but with the old woman in on that little secret…and if that was the case, he could've just told Haru too! And Kaori! Mr. Yuuki too!

When Okada-san caught Akira's stubborn face, she ruffled the boy's hair. "Aside from a few other detectives, of course, including Toma. Your case is being handled right now, alright?"

"He should've told me," Akira muttered pathetically.

So you've looked inside then? Those files?"

"Y-yeah!" he rebounded. "What're you guys trying to do anyways? Are you like, I don't know-"

Okada-san closed her eyes, and after a few more minutes of rambling on and on his optimistic gibberish, in the end Akira fell silent too. He stared at her, trying to catch the old woman's attention. "Um…Okada-san?"

"Here," she said quietly, giving the files back to Akira. "Toma would want you to have them."

"W-wait," the boy tried, "doesn't he need these?"

"He has copies."

"What about-?"

"It's fine," she repeated carefully. She wrapped her shawl around her wrinkled arms once again, the chrysanthemum readjusting itself in her hair. "I'd rather you have it than anyone else. Well, it was nice meeting you, Akira-chan."

And with that, Okada-san proceeded walking away, her soft dress brushing past his side, a quiet resignation radiating from her frame.

Akira stared down at the files, surprise briefly rushing down his system. He blinked, before turning around.

He was the only one there that afternoon.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hello, I'm the Seelie Court Jester.

-My father enjoys gardening, and I myself was pretty interested in it for a while. It's the reason why you've seen some flower symbols now.

-If any of you remember from Kaori's days with Yuki, the flower Ken left behind on Kaori's chair was a hydrangea. Though there's some debate on the meaning, generally, the hydrangea is used to represent someone's heartfelt feelings. This was Ken's way of confessing to Kaori, since he was too scared to do it in person. He's also left behind a variety of lighthearted flowers as well. He really is quite affectionate.

-The fact that Ken helps around in a flowers store is also notable. The only dark meaning behind his attraction to blossoms is his lingering toward the spider-lily. In Japan, the spider lily is the "flower of death", though it can also be associated with abandonment and loneliness, and most recently, loss of innocence. Ken's reflective in that way, a kaleidoscope of emotions. He's honest with himself, and though a bit rash at times, in the end, just like his flowers, he doesn't try to hide his meaning. (unlike our beloved Megumi or Natsuno)

-Ms. Okada had a white chrysanthemum in her hair. Generally speaking, in both America and Japan, a white chrysanthemum represents grief, death, and truth.

-Haru's name means "spring", or "sun/sunlight". Spring is usually a time when new beginnings occur. When Megumi and Natsuno found Haru, generally, was a new beginning for them. Their initial relationship with Haru was warm, tranquil, kind of like a light, playful spring day.


	70. 70 Motive

He was walking home from school one day. His bloody arms were swinging aimlessly from his side, his bruised legs limply shifting from one corner of the sidewalk to the next. His messy hair kept getting in his eyes, the strands irritatingly blinding him without any hesitation, despite the fact that the annoyance got him into more than one fight today. Dirt was forcibly shoved underneath his fingernails, and his bare feet imitated their makeshift majesty so easily, a testament to the life he'd rather leave behind.

Blurs of shapes past him. Adults busily chatted with adults, and children with children. Teachers brushed past him, conspicuously filling their schedules with nonexistent lessons, wonderful students, and even the occasional forbidden romance. Nurses averted their gazes, spending their time with their own, trivial predicaments, from a doctor proposing to another woman, to the newest, obnoxious patient that came to the hospital. Psychologists paid no mind the boy, going on with their day while dealing with the mental issues they supposedly resolved so very long ago.

The boy stopped.

He stood there, at the same corner, near the same lantern, in front of the same store, the same skies gazing down from above. He looks up, the ominous veil descending upon him readily, deliberately. He looks back down, tiny spurs of umbrellas sporadically popping up here and there. It was amazing, how cool their expressions were, how mundane the weather seemed to them. It was as if they were all off in their own little worlds, doing what it was they wanted to do, not even caring what their actions did to others.

The boy crouched down, and hugged his knees against his chest. He leaned against the wall, careful to avoid the spiderweb hanging lowly behind him. He settled back in his impoverished state, and he watched.

Fat rain drops fell on the ground. A few minutes later, puddles started to form, the soft, resounding patter a quiet, warm lullaby echoing throughout his ears. Dirty reflections stared back at him, along with unpleasant shadows he could never make out. Withered leaves crunched beneath the strangers' weights, with scampering twigs scattered about here and there. Concrete backed the audience of footsteps, placing the symphony of noise along the boy's eardrums. He smiled satisfyingly, as he looked up, his hands neatly on his lap, his legs apart, like that woman teacher said.

The bystanders were all going about their ways, eyes carefully situated down, faces twitching uncomfortably. It's weird, how they all kept doing that. What were they hiding, the boy wondered? Why were they so tired all the time? Why did they keep brushing past him, ignoring him until he started to scream? Why did they hide themselves like that, despite how stupid it looked? Why'd they do that? Why?

But the boy didn't know why. "Whore", or "bastard", or "freak"; the insults have gotten so repetitive he could actually say them all in order, if he wanted to. It wasn't hard. All he had to do was close his eyes, and imagine the other adults', and automatically, the words would start pouring from his mouth. It was kind of fun, in a sense. The teachers liked hearing him say it after all, as did the rest of his classmates. Even if he didn't understand it, their smiles made him happy. So he kept doing it.

And honestly, what else could he do anyways? He didn't want to go home, really. Momma was never there, and Papa was always bringing one woman after the other. He always smelled really weird, and he had those really big bottles with him whenever he was out playing with friends. Sometimes, there were big men at the front door, and Papa would try and hide from them. Other times, "cops" would wait outside, slinging those silver things in their hands like it was a yoyo. Papa was always telling the boy to get away from the windows and doors, but the child never listened. What was so bad about it anyways? It's not like anyone else was around.

"Hello?"

Suddenly, there was a girl standing in front of him, a girl with long, blond hair, and light brown eyes. Tiny freckles splattered across her cheeks, and an awkward, somewhat friendly smile tugged at her lips. She was wearing a bright, pink dress on that rainy day, and she carried a pink umbrella with her. The boy knew she was there, because the rain had stopped.

* * *

Every day, the girl would come back to his special spot, and sit there, beside that spiderweb. She would hug her knees tightly against her chest, as he would, and wait expectantly for him, with that same, adorable smile of hers. She'd wear a different dress with each encounter, with different ribbons, with a different umbrella.

At first, the boy was a little annoyed by her constant appearances. She'd ask questions he didn't know the answer to, and tell him things he's never heard of. She was always going on and on about stories she's heard, the people she's seen, the promises that've come up empty-handed. She talked about her parents, her home, her pets; she's even talked about him coming over, if he wanted to. Of course, he would never answer. Yet in the end, she'd take his silence as a "yes", and she'd giggle for the rest of the one-sided conversation.

Little by little, however, the boy did begin responding. No, he didn't like broccoli. He hated any and every type of vegetable, except salad. Salad was always good. He liked fruits, but mangos were probably his favorite. He wasn't an avid reader, but the books the girls mentioned sounded pretty interesting. He thought school was stupid. She thought school was good, simply because her parents said so. She didn't go to school though; she was homeschooled, like the weirdoes on TV.

And soon, he took to his new hobby, and tore himself away from people watching. He removed himself from the suffocating atmosphere, if only to satisfy his curiosity.

A few months later, the boy started visiting her house. It was big. It was big, and elegant, and European-like, and everything else his little imagination could think of. It was so huge he could've wandered the hallways for forever; her room alone was hard to navigate.

And the people living there were so classy; her parents were nice, and the girl was too. But that was only on the outside; he'd be bored if she acted stuffy and stuck-up all the time. The girl was always fun to be around, and even when she wanted to cry, she didn't. She was outspoken, emotional, and was always trying to chase him around, even when he was going back to his tiny little street corner. She kept dragging him into all kinds of things, like trouble and pretend romances, and the occasional murder mystery. She'd laugh at her mistakes, blush at her failures, but all the same, she retained her own, carefree nature. In a way, it was like meeting some princess out of a storybook, one filled with adventure and excitement.

The boy was enthralled.

After a while, he became ashamed of his own broken hearth. So he remained where he was. And no one noticed.

* * *

Afternoons.

That's when he would play with her.

Afternoons and evenings.

In the morning, he would go with the girl to her tutoring sessions. She would study math, he reading. After that, they'd escape somehow, racing across the graceful corridors and gardens. The hot, blistering sun would reign its soft rays down upon the two, causing the children to go into the fountains. They'd jump in, and thrash around playfully, all the while trying to shove the other back. Laughter filled the air, but of course, they couldn't stay long. The butlers were already shouting at them, and the maids were probably on their way.

After each "date", they'd simply sit in their cozy little hiding space. No, it wasn't on that street corner, nor was it somewhere obvious in that castle. It was deep, and dark, and the only way they could see inside was if one of them carried a flashlight with them. It was always really cold, so the boy would bring in a blanket and lay it on the floors. The girl would steal some snacks from the pantry, and they would come there. The girl was always showing off her creepy dolls, a toy he could never bring himself to love. Meanwhile, he would bring back books into their secret lair, where he'd read off of them, if only to send the girl into absolute boredom. Then they would joke around about today's daily pranks, the constant jubilance that surrounded their mischievous natures. Unfortunate misgivings were always there, but other than that, there wasn't anything amiss.

The boy and girl lived happily together.

There was one time, however, that they deviated a tiny bit from those blissful moments. Yes, they were still happy, still cheerful. But it was that one sentence that made him reminisce the times he's forgotten, the pain he's managed to bury away.

What was the subject again? History? Politics? Communism? No. She just laughed, and whispered, "I like it when people are happy."

The boy blinked. "Why?"

"It makes me happy."

* * *

"Amber! Amber!"

"Sweetie, are you alright?!"

"Don't talk! Where are they?! My daughter's-!"

The boy stared at the far off parents, both of whom were captured by worry and frustration.

The mother was gripping the girl's hand, her frost-stricken fingers trembling at the agonizing thought of the pain. Tiny grey hairs peeked from her bangs, and wrinkles masking untold, pure memories kept resurfacing, as if pleading for the girl to stay by her side. Wet, salty streams cascaded from her face, and the very image of hope kept undermining her hopeful ambitions. Her prayers of happiness and contentment slowly evaporated before the mother's dark eyes, and it was through that she refused to let go.

The father, on the other hand, kept screaming into his cellphone. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, his raven hair scattered angrily from his balding head. Black, bright eyes showed off their brownish rage, as he gave way to his emotions, lashing out at the people who were scrambling for answers. Soon, his screams became gibberish, the hellish notion of giving into stubborn idiotic terminal illness too humiliating to even consider.

Emergency, doctors, emts, all of whom would prove useless in the end, were instantly rushed to the scene. They'd always revive the girl at the last second, so maybe they weren't completely useless. After all, the boy's seen this scene so many times before. It wasn't that uncommon, really.

The father, on the other hand, dared disagree with the faulty logic. Even when they tried bringing the girl onto the ambulance, the father kept shouting with them, screaming horridly at the painful memories resurfacing from his heart. All the while, the mother hid behind him, gasping hopelessly for breath, attempting to maintain the composure her husband failed to do.

The boy watched, clinging to the father's pants. He watched them take his playmate away. He watched them go back, back to that white refuge the girl dared not leave.

* * *

It happened so quickly.

Her heart rate was barely audible, and the electrocardiograms were slowly giving into muffled, morbid rhythms. Her eyes kept fluttering, and even when the doctors tried keeping her down, her arms squirmed. Her hands reached for the fluorescent lights on top, her fingers shaking in all their lonesome. She kept whispering the mother and father, quietly pleading for the boy to come to her side.

She didn't want to die.

She didn't want to die.

The doctors tried holding them all back. The father couldn't break through, and neither could the mother.

The boy did.

The boy did, and soon, he forced his way through the ventilation tubes, through the wires, through every single thing that could possibly have stood in his way, if only to reach for that brief ray of innocence eroding before his eyes. He grabbed her pale, clammy hands, trying to reassure her, the thick tears coating his voice.

She cried, and in the end, he was forced back.

Amber was alone when she died.


	71. Chapter 71

Haru did it.

_He actually killed someone._

Akira stared at the white envelope, his eyes wide with disbelief. His hands sat emptily near his side, the ice stabbing his flesh with tiny, neglectful sighs and vulnerable shock, as he attempted to come to grips with the horrific entitlements lying within the letter. His face blanched, and as night grew, the afternoon daylight coming to an immediate close, he found himself shaking, trying to understand the secret message Toma was telling him.

No, there was no hidden message.

And it wasn't just Toma.

There were official signatures at the bottom. There was Mr. Saito's, as well as a few other signature detectives, all of whom had gone missing within the last few days. Akira bit his lip then, recalling the monotone, yet somewhat nostalgic words Okada-san spoke on that day, as well as the painful atmosphere that surrounded her so readily. Seconds later, the boy found himself groping for his phone, fumbling through the covers and sheets.

Where's Kaori?

* * *

Megumi yawned loudly, involuntarily covering her mouth as she did. She rubbed her eyes wearily, all the while attempting to make some sense of the senseless design laid out in front of her. She blinked, the scarlet making way for yet another one of her whimsical musings. She stretched then, bones aching gruesomely, as she stared back down at the design, the beautiful thought reduced to a lowly, worthless piece of crap she wouldn't have minded tearing up and burning. She sighed, as she gripped her head onto the table, staring depressingly off to the corner. She was tired, and hungry, and was ready to kill anyone who tried talking to her that day.

Still healing wounds grazed her fingers, the blood hardening whenever it could. Tiny, glittering sparkles, both black and white, stuck to the shiki's cheek. Needles scoured across her leg, the small, red cushion gazing back at her amusingly. Her black nails drummed the wooden surface, creating an impatient rhythm which illustrated a hint of her overly exaggerated impatience. Wide, dark pupils were scattered all over the dress, trying to revive the fabulous image she thought to create from her brain, only to have it vomit out on the paper in front of her.

Even those stupid headbands were better than this.

She leaned back against the couch and gazed hopelessly at the ceiling. This was horrible. She wasn't going to pass, at least not with this. Forget the stunning reviews and stellar critiques; her customers might as well have destroyed her contracts right here and now. Megumi was barely rising, and now her career was gonna die, just when she could taste the success. She hadn't even _started _creating a halfway decent male outfit to go along with it. Yes, the ideas were still sketched out (only to be tossed aside seconds later), and the colors were tasteful (she screamed at the disgusting things later), but in the end, something was missing. It was that very thing that kept Megumi from feeding, from sleeping. Yuuki's already called her out on that missing piece too.

Yuuki.

She stopped her frustrations for a bit, her own mind coming away from the memories surging forth. It'd been forever since Megumi last saw Kaori, and from time to time, the shiki couldn't help but wonder how the girl was doing. She'd always see Yuuki coming through the front door, with that same, homey scent the cafe usually stuck on him, a testament to the constant, indirect supervision she kept the girl under. The yakuza had been keeping tabs on Mr. Yuuki and Akira too, and if the police tried anything, the drug dealers would know about it. Ken kept seeing Kaori every day, and not much had changed in her demeanor since winter break. Yuuki wasn't lying, that much Megumi knew.

Haru, however, was another matter. Ever since the new semester started, there'd been no word from him. Kaori never saw him, neither did Ken, and the yakuza didn't have much information either. The visits ceased, and aside from that stupid check, there'd been no way of knowing where he was, if he was still here. It was as if Haru had disappeared altogether, leaving Megumi and Yuuki here to deal with the aftershock of the massacres.

And somehow, Toma managed to disappear along with him. Every night the two shiki would scour across Tokyo, trying to pick up some small trace of the two. Stealing through files, questioning locals, doing whatever they could to, at the very least, confirm his own presence. Yuuki even found the apartment he was staying at, and came in from there.

There was nothing.

There were people who still remembered him, unlike Yume. There was Kaori, of course, and Mr. Yuuki, and Akira. There was Ken, and the teachers, and the other classmates, as well as those useless bystanders who kept wandering about, paying little heed to the devastation around them. There were even strangers who saw the boy somewhere, wandering around here and there, trying to grab some sense of dignity from their sights.

Yet, in the end, both Yuuki and Megumi couldn't find him.

What was Haru's goal, in all of this? What was the use of those deaths, no matter how necessary they seemed to be? What was the point of his disappearance? Was the boy still alive? The shiki couldn't tell. She still cared for him, but as of now, the confusion had already marred whatever lovely notions she had left in her heart.

Megumi sat there, softly shuffling through the papers, her elegant fingers searching through the sheets. She and Yuuki had been living together for months now, neither of which had any plans on moving out. Perhaps it was because the arrangement was more convenient; they could watch over Kaori, all the while pooling their resources to try and find Toma. They also had more influence that way, she as Miyuki, he with the yakuza. It was easier to share the costs too.

From the corner of her eyes, she couldn't help but catch the sleeping jinrou lying there, on that simplistic, loyal couch. His eyes were closed, with a quiet, tranquil expression splayed across his face. A tiny frown tugged at his lips, and purple strands spilled all over his forehead, a fragile veil for hiding the dark shadows beneath. His arms folded neatly across his chest, which slowly moved to a rhythmic, soft procession, one she'd forgotten so very long ago. His body laid out relaxingly, the tension in his muscles dissipating with whatever dream he was immersed in.

Megumi gazed at him for a while, before her glare softened. Slowly, she turned around, and scrutinized that face. He seemed younger somehow, and appeared more innocent then what she was accustomed to. A certain decorum of naiveté covered those lines, and while he kept himself carefully guarded, in the end it was that notion that emphasized his sudden helplessness. Worried creases instantly vanished, and that past apprehension disappeared within seconds; in its stead, a kind of carefree attitude she never thought could exist.

She sat herself at his side, staring at those temporal breaths. Megumi wondered if they were friends now, if the ordeals they shared managed to, at least, decimate a bit of the tension she had with him before. It wouldn't be so bad, but of course, Megumi would be disappointed if that's all there were.

But then again, what right did she have to wish for something as impossible as that? After all, she was probably the reason why Sotoba burned in the first place. She should actually be grateful that Yuuki was still here, by her side, and after all this time. Even with the secrets he's kept, the scandals he's hidden away in those dark, soulless eyes of his, he was a victim through her actions.

It's funny, really. If he were still human, he might've gotten a bit taller, a little stronger. He'd be studying for the entrance exams now, cramming for final tests that otherwise would have eliminated any stray competition remaining in Japan. Megumi would be too, in her own lazy, foolish ways. No, rather, she'd be dreaming about their imaginary relationship together, with Yuuki probably proposing to her before he left, all the while heading off to some nameless college out here, in this cruel, twisted city. Who knows if she would've broken out of that ignorance, as she had so readily before. She was about to smile at those uncertain, nonexistent possibilities.

Then a jealous pang stabbed her.

How the _fuck _could he be _sleeping_?

One eye twitched. She chewed the inside of her cheek, as she sat there, mesmerized by the drowsy aura enveloping him. Come to think of it, he's been like this for a while now, and Megumi had no idea why. Yes, it bothered her quite a bit, considering how many fans were breathing down her back, how many celebrities were calling in for favors, asking Miyuki to design their outfits as a tribute to the massacre. With Haru missing, and Toma still alive, that was already grounds for concern.

She grimaced. He's handsome, but even that wasn't going to stop Megumi from waking him up; it was already four in the afternoon, wasn't it? They both stayed up last night, and the night before that, and the night before that. Surely even he could spare a _few_ more hours awake.

She was about to shake his shoulder, when tiny, viable signs instantly appeared on his expression.

Immediately, she threw herself back, that same, dreadful heat flushing across her face. His fingers twitched, and with one, tiny shrug, he revived. An inaudible yawn rose from his throat. Minutes later, he rubbed his eyes, as he struggled sitting up. His pupils were shrouded in black, but eventually, Megumi could make out a tiny, gentle light surrounding the corner of his eyes. Gradually, that darkness faded, replaced by two, lavender pupils, both of which were sleepily blinking away the fatigue.

He was just…suddenly…_cute. _

He turned toward her, the sleepiness still completely evident in his features. Unfortunately, her scarlet blushed turned redder, the heat growing more unbearable with each passing second. Her eyes widened in complete embarrassment. She mentally rummaged through her brain, trying desperately to come up with a somewhat realistic excuse as to why she was sitting so close, the actual reason far from her mind. She started opening her mouth, but no words came out.

Yuuki simply blinked, before looking down. Carefully, he shifted his side. His arm began wandering behind him, fumbling around for the cause of his apparent discomfort. Slowly, he tugged it out, revealing a tiny, velvet ribbon dangling from his fingertips.

The missing piece.

Megumi shot from her spot.

She body slammed Yuuki back on the couch, all the while snatching the ribbon away from him. He jolted from his exhaustion then, annoyingly swirling over to the equally irritated girl, whose seething glare resurfaced from her face.

"What?" he growled.

"You…_you-_"

Yuuki was about to answer back, when he caught sight of the tiny thing. He cocked his head, examine the holy sacrament for a bit, before sighing. "That dress doesn't need it."

"Do you have…any idea how long…?" Megumi barely managed, not even bothering to listen to his unnecessary advice.

He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth, only to be forced back onto the couch, with an angry vampire beating against his chest.

"I've been _looking for this stupid thing for forever!" _she shouted frustratedly. "You were _sleeping on it?! _What the_ hell _were you doing?!"

He stared at her for a moment, the seriousness of his offense not yet sinking in. Finally, he smirked. "Sleeping?"

She grabbed both his cheeks and stretched them out, fuming at his apparent disinterest with her emotional health.

"You _jackass," _she muttered miserably, brushing aside his amused chuckle.

* * *

They were all there, in their cages, pleading for one last chance at a life they could never attain. Moaning, crying, begging, merciless with their own cruel compassion, they moaned their agonizing screeches, their primitive instincts taking over out the mere glimpses of the corpses resting around the outskirts. Claws scratched the metal, with silver lining their hateful eyes, the deadness alone resting within their own, hellish nightmares. Violent echoes resounded from the scenery, the image alone depicting what could have been the lachrymose of humans, a symphony for demons and angels alike, whatever their sins were.

Toma stared down at Sotoba from the cliffs, the neglect reigning through the air. Old ruins were rebuilt, forming a makeshift nest that no one would dare enter. Trash lay barren upon the dirt roads, with tiny stones entwining with black and grey, a hint of red mixing in with the shadows. Shrines were demolished, and the old chapel from far away was scheduled to be destroyed some time later in the spring. Houses were refurbished, creating a futuristic, rural settlement where only the wealthy could afford to live, all the while shutting out farmers, family, practically anyone who endeavored succumbing forcibly to that somewhat disturbing, comfortable effect. Tiny gardens sprouted here and there, and fireplaces were lit, ready and waiting for their new masters to arrive. Vines swirled across the wooden posts, with promising blossoms just waiting to sprout, all the while protecting their own seeds against the diminishing frosts. The graveyards nearby were being removed, and traces of tombstones, of coffins, were all being burned at the stakes centered around the town.

Then again, even that would disappear too, wouldn't it?

Surrounding the mountains was a large barbed wire fence. Needles coated iron, along with a dry poison that paralyzed any human whom had possessed unfortunate curiosity. Two tall, inconspicuous towers were situated in the far corners of the village. Shrouded under the veil of night, the towers would most likely serve as thrones, or perhaps weapon stations. Maybe even surveillance? From what Toma can understand, there were still a few more renovations being made. But, once they were finished, and Yasuhiko-sama was satisfied with the designs, he'd bring his playmates here.

He grimaced at the prospect.

"Toma."

The jinrou flickered his eyes toward the boy, who was standing a few yards away from him. He sighed, as he gazed emptily at the cage Yasuhiko-sama managed to build. "You were that eager, weren't you?"

"I don't have anymore time," the boy stated softly. "You saw them, didn't you? You saw how desperate they were."

"Don't you remember anything?" Toma asked, placing his hands behind his back. "No matter what you do, the results are always the same. They're going to find a way to escape."

Yasuhiko-sama cocked his head. "Escape?"

"Haru," he began. He turned his heel, a cool indifference radiating from his pupils. "What is this? What exactly are you trying to do here?"

Yasuhiko-sama stared at Toma for a bit, the surprise etched on his face. After a few seconds, he smiled his awkward smile. "I'm giving them a home."

"I'll ask again. _What are you trying to do here?"_

"Just that," he replied darkly, with that same, eerie expression. He closed his eyes painfully, as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You saw what Fawn almost did to them. If it hadn't been for people like him, they'd probably be living out their own lives right now, doing whatever they want, when they want."

"I'm aware of your sick obsessions," Toma responded seriously, his humorless tone causing the boy's relieved smile to vanish completely. "But as I've said before; they've their own wills. Neither Natsuno nor Megumi would want to live in a place like this. To be reminded of their past mistakes-"

"But that's just it," Yasuhiko-sama interrupted aggressively. "They _won't _be reminded of it, because everything they've ever hated will be centered right here. They can destroy, annihilate, trample it all into dust. And when that's gone, they'll finally be free…from all of it." He relaxed then, as he shifted his gaze around, and just like that, Toma followed it.

The cages.

The shiki came back then, uneasiness sliding through his thoughts. "And what of Virgil's beasts?"

"You didn't know?"

"I only got them for you because I thought you'd be selfish enough to take command," Toma said. "You could've destroyed every single thing standing in your way. You had that opportunity, but you decided to use it for them. Why?"

Yasuhiko-sama stared off at the empty space in front of him. "No, you're wrong there. In some ways, I wanted something from them."

"Gratitude?"

"Maybe." Yasuhiko-sama turned his stare toward the skies, his brain endlessly scrutinizing the bright, crisp clouds overhead. "The only reason I stayed with Fawn was so that I could create something like this. It was because of him I learned how much Natsuno and Megumi were suffering. Take a look around you Toma. The villagers really are disgusting, aren't they?"

Toma narrowed his eyes. So that's what he'd been doing. Those creatures were the villagers, weren't they? No wonder they're all so grotesque. Was this the boy's judgement then? Was this the verdict he'd decided for the dead? "So that's how you see it."

"Of course." Yasuhiko-sama shifted his weight, then kept on, the contentment surrounding his body greedily. "Megumi never liked being here, and neither did Natsuno. When the Purge happened, they were swept away, along with the other trash. I can only imagine how brutal it must've been…"

Misplaced limbs, absent eyes, fangs protruding horrifically from the roof of their jaws; it was all cringeworthy, made more, only because of the boy's remorseless face. Even that Tanaka girl would scream at the sight. "How many bodies did you use?"

"For each one?"

"Yes."

"Two or three. Maybe more."

"And you've gotten rid of all the others-"

Yasuhiko-sama shrugged. "I didn't think they'd like the taste. He might not look it, but Natsuno's pretty refined when it comes to food. As for Megumi-"

"And what will you do when you run out of these villagers?" Toma pressed, tearing his attention from Yasuhiko-sama. "These feeding grounds won't last forever."

"They will. Fawn made sure of that," the human replied, as he walked toward one of the cages. Instantly, the howling stopped, replaced by a steady quaking that illustrated mindless submission. "Yeah, the villagers will all die, but there are plenty of other sources to pick from. For instance, the Bethlehem Hospital, in England. And Aokigahara Forest are always filled with suicides."

Toma gritted his teeth. "You sold Fawn Industries, remember-?"

Yasuhiko-sama coldly brushed him aside, as he rapped upon the cages. The creatures trembled away from his presence, kneeling lowly to the ground. Urine began pouring from their broken intestines, as they all kept quiet, hoping that, at the very least, the monster would go away. "I'll keep one or two alive. By now, they should know better than to run off."

Quietly, he creeped his thumb between the bars. Automatically, the creatures shuffled away, trying to prevent the tiny human from touching them, knowing full well what was associated with that touch.

"Yasuhiko-sama-"

"By the way," he continued, as he turned back around, his thumb instantly lingering near the latch. "Tanaka-san's little brother seemed to have gotten his hands on some information. Apparently, it was for your little horror movie."


	72. Chapter 72

Kaori walked into the kitchen hesitantly, her eyes shifting from corner to corner. A sickly sweet aroma bombarded her nose, and from her eyes, she caught a foreboding figure who silently swirled an egg yoke around a frying pan, a spatula in hand. His bangs were frayed over his unreadable eyes, a stern frown so obviously marring his lips. Fresh, new wrinkles dotted Mr. Yuuki's face, and tiny white hairs peeked out from beneath his already grey strands. His shoulders stiffened when she came in, though of course, Kaori flinched at the subtle movement. She bit her lip, as she twisted her eyes away from Mr. Yuuki. Slowly, she came to the table, and sat down. Her gaze surveyed the awkward silence miserably. Love wasn't here, and neither was Akira.

Great.

She gulped. How long has it been since she last talked with Mr. Yuuki, with Akira? She couldn't even bring herself to see Yasuhiko-san, and she certainly didn't want Ken-kun to see her in such a state. The only person she could've gone to at this point was Natsuno, but that, of course, wouldn't help the overbearing confrontation laid out in front of her. And even confiding in the old friend was a risky option. The very fact he was living with Megumi, of all people, was odd enough. Though the conversations were smooth and amiable enough for the girl to forget her past misery, in the end, it was he who urged her to return to her normal life, and leave behind all the burdensome troubles she faced.

It was irritating, to say the least.

She clutched her knees tightly, both hands trembling a little. When the new term started, she'd gone to that cafe every afternoon. And every afternoon, Natsuno would be there, waiting expectantly for someone, a person that wasn't her. Yasuhiko-san? Megumi? Yet when he'd look up, he'd blink pleasantly, before inviting her to sit down. Sometimes she'd get a muffin. Other times a drink. A cup of water, a slice of cake every now and then.

Initially, Kaori would only sit there in silence, still absorbing the shock that despite everything, her friend was still alive, still breathing(?), still as serious as ever. A few days later, however, things started to change. She'd come frequently to complain about the latest stunts Ken-kun tried pulling on her, as well as the latest rumors floating around her school, some involving Sotoba, others idiotic insults consisting mostly of Kosei-sensei sleeping with Kaori. Her rants would usually follow slow, resigned sighs. Her goals of leaving Tokyo also came to light, and the vampire could only chuckle at her efforts. He did offer to tutor her once, but Kaori refused, simply because she didn't have time.

"Getting involved", apparently, was a lot of work.

She's also gotten curious about what he'd been doing all this time, why he was here, how he was supporting himself, how well he'd gotten along…with Megumi. And so, the questions would pour from her lips, the initial fears eroding with each word. She'd always ask him about the okiagari, how he and Megumi managed to escape, if he had to kill people like the Kirishikis did, what it was like, living as he was.

No, aside from he and Megumi, everyone else was dead. He didn't know how he managed to survive, though there were a lot of things he didn't understand. He didn't meet Megumi until later, when an accident occurred and they just sort of saw each other. He didn't have to kill anyone; take a little at a time and they'd be fine.

As for Megumi, there were times when she would have to skip out on meals, simply because she was too busy working on yet another project. Other times, she'd merely forget, and spend several days starving herself to death without even realizing it. Kaori could only bite back a bitter laugh at the comments, but it was that very aspect which made Kaori curious of how her former friend was doing, even if she didn't want to admit it.

But once or twice, she would ask about the vampire, if only to satisfy her curiosity. Yes, Megumi wasn't fine. Yes, she accidentally stabbed herself with another pin again. Yes, she'd been screaming at the phone for about two hours last night, at the bratty models who kept asking her for more and more favors. She never got a moment's rest, and as of this point, she might as well have danced off the edge of an overstressed lifestyle. It was funny (for Natsuno), but alas, he decided to take over some of the scheduling. After all, it wasn't particularly fun to force-feed Megumi every so often.

Kaori bit the insides of her cheek. She did ask Natsuno about why he was still staying with Megumi, despite all she's done. It was Megumi, after all, who attacked the villagers, who made everyone disappear in the blink of an eye. Kaori reminded him of the precious ashes the shiki left behind, the life she so happily trampled over. The family Megumi decimated, the innocence Kaori enjoyed, and even the simple illusion of safety, all swept away within the confines of time.

He simply shrugged, and ordered her to keep eating.

She did.

Every day, there was something new. Normally, she'd run off and tell Yasuhiko-san about it, but, for some reason, she could never find him. Throughout the school rumors kept floating by, some stating he was killed by some rival gang, others saying the yakuza might've gotten murdered him. Teachers would whisper to one another about how he got a poor girl pregnant and ran off with her, only to be jailed a few days later (she had a hard time laughing that one off). The more optimistic bunch said he graduated early, and was now studying abroad…by using the drug deals as funds.

She'd relay all this to Natsuno, who would never say a word about it. Rather, he would continue on with the conversation, as if nothing strange had happened at all. There was nothing weird about Yasuhiko-san's disappearance, nothing that could've possibly pertained to Kaori, or even Megumi.

_Stay with Haru. _

Those words kept resonating from the back of her mind. Kaori could never bring herself to ask Natsuno what they meant. Then again, she might not have to. After all, Yasuhiko-san managed to mistake vampires for aliens, and who knows? Maybe he was trying to go off of that crazy conspiracy theory of his. Perhaps that's the reason why he was skipping school, because of the whole aliens thing.

Kaori snapped awake when she heard the stove turn off. She looked up timidly, all the while biting her tongue to keep the desperation at bay.

Mr. Yuuki's aging face was a new sight, so much so her eyes widened in surprise. He was feebler than she imagined, weaker, more fragile. There were more wrinkles than she remembered, and she couldn't help but notice the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the redness embedded within his cornea. It was if time had suddenly caught up to him, rendering him the sole proprietor of whatever pain Kaori caused him.

Her lips parted slightly, her dark, steel eyes casting overhead a worried light. How many sleepless nights had Mr. Yuuki suffered from? How many missed phone calls were in her phone right now, all of whom filled with voices demanding that she return home? How mad was he now, especially when Kaori had only recently decided showing her face?

How selfish had Kaori become?

Kaori gulped down. She opened her mouth to greet him, but Mr. Yuuki beat her to it. "Good morning," he said calmly.

She stared back at him, at a complete loss for words. She shifted her gaze downwards, and loosened her grip. "G-good morning."

"Were you out late again?"

"N-no."

"I see."

"U-um…"

Mr. Yuuki lost Natsuno. He lost Natsuno, and he was scared he might lose Kaori too.

What was she _doing? _

"I aced my test yesterday." she said abruptly.

"That's good."

"And my teacher s-said…he said I should consider applying for…this summer program. H-he said it had something to do…with vets…"

"Animals, huh?" he said quietly, continuing on with his indifferent tone. "That's new."

"Y-yeah."

They lapsed in that uncomfortable silence again. Sounds of swirling rice omelets kept up its noise. She could hear plates practically slamming onto the kitchen counter. "Where's-?"

"Looking for you. Love followed him."

She closed her eyes. "Oh."

The sounds stopped.

She could feel Mr. Yuuki's slow, dark eyes fixated on her, a mix of anger and disbelief suddenly clouding his normally calm face. He turned back, placing the pan on the stove as he did. He undid the green apron and laid it in front of him, his muscles tensing at the thought of that single, insignificant word. "_Oh_? Is that all you can say?"

Kaori bit her lip. "I-"

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried we were?" he asked, the frustrations building up inside his tone. "School's already started for, two weeks now? And you've _just_ decided to crawl _back_?"

Kaori bowed her head shamefully, with a tiny, confused frown tugging her lips. This was probably the first time any adult acted like this toward her. Usually, her father was too busy with work, and there were days when she hardly ever spoke with her own mother. It was a certain discipline she lacked from her youthful days, and it never occurred to her until now. Why, she wondered? And she couldn't help but look up.

The terrified anger on Mr. Yuuki's face was forever ingrained in her mind that day.

"Where's that boy?" he demanded, as he stepped closer. "Yasuhiko? And the other one? What'd they do to you?"

"M-Mr. Yuuki," she began softly. "T-they aren't-"

"Don't give me that excuse," he snapped. "Neither me nor Akira ever see you anymore. You don't think we worry about you? You ever thought about Love either? What the _hell_ have you been _doing _all this time?"

She didn't know what to tell him. What secrets could she hide from him, especially with times like this? What would he make of Yasuhiko-san's disappearance? What of Ken-kun? She couldn't tell the guardian about Natsuno or Megumi, but at the same time, she couldn't come up with any plausible excuse either. How could she?

"…I got into trouble… at my school."

Mr. Yuuki's eyes narrowed. "Was some stupid drama that serious enough to keep you away for so long? What've you been doing with-?"

"There was a girl in my class," Kaori interrupted slowly, recalling the miserable emotions swirling inside those past months. "Her name was Yuki. She's…she's the girl people saw in that neighborhood. Mr. Saito's daughter. The one who died."

Mr. Yuuki immediately fell quiet, the gravity of the situation bearing down on the both of them. He stayed there for a moment, tiny bubbles still surfacing from the omelets. Before long, she could hear footsteps coming toward her, the soft patters echoing toward her eardrums. "What happened?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Shattered memories entwined with an emotion she couldn't understand, with a pain she endeavored to force back. She didn't want to worry Mr. Yuuki, nor did she want Akira involved. She needed to take it all, if only for their sakes. And now Mr. Yuuki was better, and Akira was running around, his worried eyes fixated only on an wayward sister, who was slipping down some uncertain path no one knew about. Abandoned, neglected…

"Kaori."

"When we first got here, she bullied me," Kaori answered quietly. "She heard I was from Sotoba, and she wanted to give me a hard time. When…when she died, Mr. Saito started ganging up on me. And then…"

Mr. Yuuki's eyes widened. Slowly, he came toward the kitchen table, and sat himself down. Though the anger dissipated a bit, his cool tranquility came back to him. "And then?" he prompted silently.

She smirked emptily, as she stared at the nothingness. "Yasuhiko-san is really nice. Ken-kun is always trying to cheer me up, but he's just so creepy. And then there was that school fashion show everyone kept talking about…"

Yes, the school fashion show. The chase. The way Ken-kun kept staring at her, racing after her, the same, crazed expression entwining within his pupils. She hid, the fear enveloped within her insides. She opened the door, and there Yasuhiko-san was, trying to find another model for the show.

Then there was Yuki, the asshole victim who probably didn't even deserve to be mourned after. As well as Mr. Saito. What happened to him? Just because someone found Kaori near Yuki, that didn't mean Kaori had anything to do with the murder. What was the basis for that? Where was the murder weapon? Anything at all that could have possibly pertained to that Yuki's death?

That company's fashion show was probably the trial for Mr. Saito's err. Yes, that was it. Kaori saw his heart ripped out that night. And that was the night she saw Megumi tearing out her insides.

All in front of the company building, where that monster attacked both she and Kaori.

Why?

Natsuno was here. He'd take care of everything, both he and Megumi. Kaori wouldn't have to worry anymore, yet all the same, the confusion seared through her brain. She couldn't handle the thought of leaving those questions unanswered, allowing them to fall beneath seams of forgotten emotion. She couldn't bear seeing them waste away within those memories, hiding behind beloved smiles and amiable jokes she'd stored inside her heart, sleeping beneath the piles of tiny buds and gifts she received from the comforter that had long since confessed his feelings.

But what would happen if she pursued those questions? What would happen to Mr. Yuuki, and to Akira? Would they still be here, waiting for her? Would she lose another home, if not to the fires, but rather to her own curiosity?

What would she have left?

"Kaori?"

She simply shook her head.

Minutes later, she could feel a tiny, comforting pat on top her head, along with a resigned annoyance flashing over Mr. Yuuki's face. The sobs continued growing, and as time passed on, Kaori could only sit there, content with the hopelessness of it all.

"Kaori," a puzzled Mr. Yuuki inquired, "why're you crying?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm… so, so sorry."

Hours later, Kaori was grounded for three months, and she would apologize to Akira when he came back. Her cellphone was confiscated that day.

* * *

"Horror movie?"

Yasuhiko-sama gave the jinrou an amused smile. He turned away, and continued fingering the latch. "That's right. Apparently, those files you gave him looked like something out of one of those old detective movies."

Toma grimaced. That's right; the experiments. "Why do you care? It's not like you're going to need those sheets anymore."

"You're right; I'm not." Yasuhiko-sama swirled around, a dark, seething glare entwined in his eyes. "Those papers, however, were only meant for Natsuno and Megumi."

"Killing those beasts should be enough."

"I wanted them to know who they've killed," he answered. "At the very least, those files would've put their worries to rest. They could've lived on without those wretched idiots breathing down their necks."

"They'll be trapped."

"They'll be _free." _Yasuhiko-sama pressed. "They're shiki. They don't have the same limits we do-"

"Might I remind you that _I'm _one of your precious shiki?" Toma growled.

Yasuhiko-sama shook his head pathetically, all the while chuckling at the impossible notion. "I can't believe. You still haven't caught on."

"What are you-?"

"Don't you get it?" Yasuhiko-sama interrupted softly, causing Toma to flinch. "You _aren't _shiki. You never _were_."

What was this boy talking about?

Yasuhiko-sama knew about the experiments Virgil conducted. He knew about the blood tests, the observations, the data results; in fact it was one of the reasons why Toma gave them away to Akira, as a plausible explanation as to what had happened in Sotoba. The very reason why he _became _jinrou was because he thought he could help Amber with the disease! He obeyed every single order from Virgil, if only to save the girl's life.

And besides, Toma needed blood to survive, just as those two did. He had fangs, a corpselike shell to call his own, a dead soul to go along with it, a spirit that aimlessly drifted from one moment to the next, trying to, at the very least, find something that was worth his time. "If this is about your little brats, then-"

"I'm not talking about my _friends _Toma," Yasuhiko-sama stated eerily, his own, heartless conviction playing away into a frenzy of madness and insanity. He settled into a relaxed atmosphere then, the boy, as he relayed to Toma those disgusting lies. "You paid your pride for helping that girl, didn't you? A shame she died. Even if Megumi hadn't burned down the hospital, she still wouldn't have survived."

"What're you getting at?"

"Virgil died for _nothing," _Yasuhiko-sama said darkly. "As did you. You both followed your delusional cures. You risked everything for her, and you got nothing in return. That's why you want to destroy these grounds, don't you? You won't stand for it if anyone else gets away with the happiness you wanted!"

Toma clenched his teeth. He remembered Amber. He remembered her loveliness, the freedom which radiated from her tiny, sickly frame, the way her own cheerfulness infected others with brilliant rays of light. He remembered her hearth, as well as that tiny hiding place in the corners. He remembered the way she called for him, the way she waited on him in the event something happened, whether it be the bullies or the adults. He remembered her dying breaths, her quiet, solitary tears descending down her cheeks.

He remembered it.

And yes, jealousy did have something to do with his actions.

"Shiki," Yasuhiko-sama continued, "aren't trapped like you or Amber. They aren't bound by societal rules or trivial opinions. Natsuno and Megumi are far different. They don't need anyone's approval to live."

"So this is your excuse then?" Toma inquired quietly. "_This _is your solution? You're going to trap them here forever? Do you really want their friendship so badly?"

Yasuhiko-sama's darkened, the slightest hints of madness entwining from the corners. "It's better than going back to the cold."

"They're vampires Haru," Toma reminded. "They've already lost their warmth."

* * *

Natsuno stared off at the empty space in front of him. The sickly, yellow walls kept gazing at him dreadfully, the entire scene adorned in pale jubilance and feigned light. His own reflections stared back at his hardened eyes, as he contemplated on whether or not he should have even come. Purple strands fell across his eyes, as he kept on with his contemplations, all the while waiting impatiently for a certain girl to come back with her precious scarf.

A simple, grey Victorian jacket hugged his torso, with a black chain swung from one side to the next. Neatly cut sleeves came to his elbows, and from behind, a long tailcoat cascading from the back. A dark blue, thin sweater came from underneath, with a skull decorating from the surface. Fibers of skeletal wings latched onto the sleeves, and though it never carried the same elegance as it had from before, it was more modern, in a sense, moving from one period to the next without the slightest of hesitations. Black, tattered jeans decorated his legs, along with his normal, black dress shoes, which provided a somewhat sharp contrast to the new design Shimizu thought of. A dark green feather latched onto the left side of his head.

Natsuno stared back at his reflection for a while longer, before finally turning away. He recalled the conversation just hours before, the somewhat frustrating moment still embedded in his brain.

_If I bring a model to the studio, we'll get the entire week for free! _Megumi shouted.

_Why can't we just do it in the apartments? _

_If I don't work with a model in suite 23, I won't be registered for the snow festival! _

_Get someone else to help you!_

_No way! You're the only one here! I don't have any male models and I'm not gonna call that stuck up bastard again! _

_Why do I have to do it? Just get one of the amateurs from those stupid agencies-! _

_I don't want those fatties either! They'll ruin the whole thing! _

_Stop whining! _

_Not until you help me! _

What an incredibly long argument that was.

Natsuno sighed, as he turned around toward the night air, the low evening beginning to take hold of the skies. The quiet silence gave way to the conspicuous, shimmering lights down below, with tiny people weaving their way through traffic. There was no inkling of brothels or drugs, no sudden murders taking place within tonight's reign. Drunks nor rapists were nowhere to be found in an area such as this, away from the massacres and the gore, from the ugliness that kept plaguing lives like so. No familiar faces dotted the crowds, and not one unnatural presence came into the business districts, or at the very least, existences he didn't know about.

He turned his heel and spun away. Shimizu managed to get partial control of the police again. A few more nights and she'd get her puppets back, whether they knew it or not, and precious files that initially eluded her grasp would come racing back to her. After that, if she could access more confidential political files, she could establish more secure, political connections in Tokyo. And with the yakuza tamed, they'd practically be untouchable.

_Natsuno. _

Kaori didn't come today. She was probably with his dad, making amends, walking Love, living out her life as an ordinary school girl. He had no idea she could manage such things, especially with all that's happened to her.

However, that was none of his business, was it?

_Natsuno, are you even listening? _

Even now, Natsuno could still make out the villagers from beyond the shadow, their silhouettes clouding whatever thoughts he managed to drag out from the process. He would always see them there, those same shackles dangling from their hands, the verdict unpleasantly falling from their lips. It was a weird pattern; whenever Shimizu came by, they'd go away, and when she was gone, they'd come back again.

_Are you choosing that bitch over me? _

"Yuuki!"

Natsuno jolted and spun around, finding the designer bounding happily toward him with a slightly panicked look on her face. She was wearing that old, purple dress from months before, with tiny black flats that emphasized her small footsteps. She didn't wear makeup today, though her wide, crimson eyes took hold of his attention. Her hair was tied back in her usual ponytails, the pink strands sweeping away from her collarbone.

He stared at her for a moment, before easing his muscles, the tension quickly dissipating from the atmosphere. He turned toward her, both arms to his sides, and regarded her evenly. A silver choker dangled from her fingers, and he blinked. "What about the scarf?"

"Changed my mind," she answered. She tugged his arm with one hand, while holding him steady with the other. He stiffened.

"Don't!" she ordered, causing him to jump a bit.

"What?"

"Do that and the outfit won't look right!" she complained proudly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her body against his. She bit her lip, as she scrutinized Natsuno's throat. "Stop moving!" she ordered.

"I'm not moving."

"You're moving away!" She grabbed his shoulders and firmly planted his body in front of her, her smooth fingertips brushing away the finite particles of dust away from his shoulders. Natsuno looked up. They were all still there, waiting for Shimizu to leave. "We only have this studio for thirty more minutes!"

Slowly, they were all edging away from those golden, fluorescent lights. Their faces contorted to a sick, twisted expressions, as they howled at the oblivious shiki. The flames were there, surrounding them raggedly, the hellfire embracing with their own sorrows. Neither regret nor remorse crossed their features, and the darkness from beneath came from their own testimonies. Even the thinly veiled notions of purgatory remained lost to them, as they howled for righteous judgement, begging for the survivors to die along with them. They pleaded that their prayers be heard, not knowing the ill-fated words were already forgotten the moment Shimizu entered through the door.

And when they finally vanished, Natsuno smirked.

"There," Shimizu said finally, the silver chain seemingly latched onto his throat. She backed away, her thumb immediately coming toward her lips. "So what'd you think? Too tight? Too loose? I mean, really-"

"It's fine."

"Are you serious?"

"What? What is it?"

"Honestly…yeah, the chain was a bad idea." she mused softly. "But black won't work on something like this. A tie maybe? Yeah, that'd be good. Yuuki, stay right there."

"Shimizu-"

"The outfit has to be good," Shimizu explained, "but the model has to shine too. They need to fit, and right now, that chain isn't working for you."

"This is just about clothes though, isn't it?" Natsuno asked. "You don't have to be that specific about it-"

"Yuuki," she stated seriously. "If the clothes don't fit, then the model looks bad. The critics will destroy me if that happens." She turned away. "And besides, you're handsome, so you need the right look."

When she left, a tiny, bright blush came across the jinrou's cheeks.


	73. Chapter 73

Kaori sat back on her bed, with Love sleeping soundly on her lap. She looked over the problems Kosei-sensei so angrily gave the class, the pencil forming tiny doodles across the borderlines, a waste of effort she might have to erase later. She stared at those drawings for a while, before continuing on with her assignment. She tucked a strand of hair behind her right ear, and looked down at the numbers.

Yasuhiko-san wasn't back today either. No matter how many times Kaori checked his classroom, or waited out in the courtyards, he just wasn't there. By now, everyone in school was speculating on where he could've gone, what sort of trouble he managed to get himself into (the doddering fools couldn't even keep their mouths shut). She couldn't just ask anyone where Yasuhiko-san was, considering he never talked with anyone. It seems he really was wrapped up in this whole aliens idea, wasn't he?

She closed her eyes, the warm sunlight adorning her bare legs. She breathed a deep, content sigh, before continuing on with her work.

Kaori hasn't seen Akira much. Whenever she did, he's always so fidgety around her. Mr. Yuuki hadn't noticed that pattern, but fortunately, Kaori did. She didn't want Akira going off on his own, that much still remains, but then again, she didn't want him meddling around with the okiagari either. Yes, she's apologized to him over and over again, and yes, she tried being a better older sister, one that could watch over her family, and protect them if need be, but did he want that, she wondered?

She couldn't tell, at this point.

Of course, life wasn't always that predictable, especially with something as abnormal as the undead. The very notion itself was like a sinful temptation, one Kaori wouldn't have minded giving into, if not for the fact she still had anchors here, chains that kept her sheltered beneath uncertain memories, undeveloped relationships, few friendships that've already come and gone.

There was Mr. Yuuki's health to consider, an aspect she needed no help seeing. Akira's curiosity was another thing that could get him in trouble, mostly in the mundane world, though it'd be a problem if he went off elsewhere. There was Love, who followed Kaori along like an eager child, and there was Ken-kun, who kept giving her flowers and promises and unfamiliar praises. There was Yasuhiko-san, a special person Kaori was still waiting for, a boy who did nothing wrong, except indulge in his own delusions.

It was certainly an apt way to put things.

Her thoughts began drifting by from today, from morning till noon, the time she spent with her classmates, to her time alone. Mr. Yuuki dropped her off in school, made sure Kaori still wasn't on her "rebellious streak", before he rushed off to work. She turned in a project, and during lunch, she overheard a few girls talking about shopping this weekend. The Sapporo Snow Festival was coming, and they all wanted to see Miyuki's newest designs.

It seemed that designer was the only thing the students could talk about nowadays, and for the longest time, Kaori didn't know what to feel about that. Memories of her father came rushing from the back of her mind. The pencil stopped, along with whatever calculations Kaori had, ones that would've gotten her the right answer had she written them down.

Megumi killed Kaori's father. She killed him, and she tried killing Kaori.

No, that wasn't correct.

Megumi saved Kaori, didn't she? She saved her from getting killed. She tortured herself, when the fashion show ended, and it was Megumi who was crying, when she forced Kaori away.

It wasn't Megumi who showed up at her house that night, fangs sharpened, ready to attack.

Rather, it was her own father.

Her father, whom Kaori beat to death with a bat. Her father, whom she struck down without any resistance. Her father, who became one of the okiagari, who attacked his family, an action Kaori couldn't undo, no matter the motives. His reasoning, his thoughts, his affections, none of that ever made it in the girl's mind, as she contemplated on the person who ended Yoshikazu Tanaka's life.

Megumi turned him.

But it was Kaori who delivered the final blow.

Love yawned, and when she looked down, Kaori could see the tiny dog's sleepy eyes blinking, his white paws stretching lazily against her leg. His weary gaze drifted slowly throughout the room, before settling onto his mistress. His tail started wagging again, and automatically, the playful air racing back to him. His fatigue eroded away, as he snuggled against Kaori's side, nudging her quietly out of bed.

She smiled sadly. Her fingers parted from the paper, and softly caressed the dog's somewhat pristine fur.

It was his choice to attack his family. It was his choice to burden them all with his selfish decision; even if he _did_ want to bring them over, he should've realized that deplorable fate…wasn't at all what Kaori wanted. If it wasn't for that one, primitive moment, Kaori might not even be alive today, that much she knew.

But at the same time, it was Kaori's decision to kill her father. It was instinctive, and it was, perhaps, just as animal-like as her father's choice. Maybe it was even more barbaric, considering he, at the very least, had the decency to scream and beg for his life. Yet in her mind, that creature wasn't her father; it was just an okiagari, disguised as her father. It was just a rabid monster who needed to be put down, and it was by that immature, selfish logic Kaori kept with her actions.

And after all this time, she never took the blame.

It didn't seem like Kaori's problem to begin with. Megumi, meanwhile, was the perfect scapegoat; she already established her own reputation throughout the village. She was flashy, spoiled, offensive, and she even went out of her way to avoid Kaori, who did nothing wrong. But even with that logic, Kaori couldn't help but find it a bit odd, how easily her father came to the house. Even if Megumi hadn't killed him, even if he was turned by someone else…would he still come after her?

Kaori loosened her grip on the paper, allowing it to slip from her grasp. Her eyes silently followed that vulnerable shadow, which became smaller with each second passed. Finally, that shadow disappeared altogether, leaving only a blank slate in its place.

Kaori shared the blame for what happened in Sotoba. She didn't have any right to wallow in self-pity, nor did she have the authority to judge Megumi for the sickening crimes Kaori very well had taken part in. Good or evil, black and white, nothing was important beneath a sea of fire and smoke.

There was a quiet knock on her door.

Kaori looked up, stroking a, once again, sleeping Love, who was drooling all over her pillow. She noted to change the sheets, and flickered her eyes toward the cracks beneath the door, a familiar shadow grazing over her eyes. Akira.

"Come in," she called.

Slowly, the door creaked open. Akira peered through, a contemplative look entwined in his eyes. There were dark shadows beneath his expression, mingling with a more mature light playing around his pupils. He was a little pale, and his cheeks were flushed, but other than that, she couldn't see anything more from his unreadable face. What was it that made him act like this? What happened while she was away?

"Akira?"

"Kaori," he began desperately, but then, he stopped. Slowly, the alarm eased away, replaced by a somewhat calmer, content smile. "So Love's with you now, huh?"

Kaori smiled. "Thanks again. You did a good job; I didn't think you'd take care of him as well as you did."

"What? He's my dog too."

She laughed. "Right, sorry."

"So how's…how's Haru?" Akira pressed, as he closed the door behind him. He plopped himself on Kaori's bed and turned to her, that brief cheerfulness instantly vanishing from his expression.

Kaori stared at her tiny brother. She shrugged then, and opted for a simplistic lie she could undo later on. "He's fine. He's got a lot of homework to do, so he can't come today."

"O-oh."

"What is it?"

His hands held fast against his knees, and he stared hard at the floor. Kaori examined him, her own fingers moving to the sound of Love's heartbeat. That's odd; she'd never seen Akira look this way before. Even after the fight against the okiagari, he wasn't as serious as this, and it wasn't like him to become so frightened either.

She leaned closer. "Akira?"

"Kaori…I think…it's best you stopped seeing Haru."

She smirked humorlessly, as she turned back toward Love's peacefully dreams. Ken-kun was still doing that kind of thing, huh? She's told him a countless number of times how bad rumors were, along with the cruelty that usually came with such insults. Why he never listens, she didn't know know. "If Ken-kun said anything bad about Yasuhiko-san, it's not true…wait. Haru?"

"Y-yeah," Akira said quietly. "Seriously though Kaori-"

"Why?" she asked, shifting the dog on her lap. So her baby brother was already on a first name basis with Yasuhiko-san, huh? She did admit it bothered her a bit, but it's not like it'd cause any harm. Kaori merely smiled, and looked up. "Akira?"

"I didn't get this from that bastard."

Kaori stopped petting Love, as she peered up at Akira. Mr. Yuuki did tell her the boy wasn't particularly fond of Ken-kun, but to this extent… What happened anyways?

"Akira-"

"Haru killed someone."

"_Akira-"_

"It's all true." he stated, swirling over to his sister. "I got it from someone who worked at the police station. I-!"

Kaori narrowed her eyes. "What were you doing at the station?"

"I…" He turned away. "I was helping them…with Mr. Saito's investigation."

She bit the insides of her cheek. Natsuno didn't want them involved; even now, she still trusted him, though Megumi was involved. "Akira, that's not our job-"

"He had something to do with Sotoba!"

She sat there, taken back by his words. "What?"

"It's true! It's true…there was this guy, who helped out at the station. He asked me a lot of questions, and I told him everything. About the okiagari, about Natsuno and Megumi, and I-"

Her eyes widened. "Hold on…who'd you tell?"

"Toma." he answered defiantly. "He's goes to your school. You've seen him before, right?"

Toma?

"Akira, if he goes to my school, he's not even old enough to _be _there," she hissed. "You shouldn't go off like that either! What would happen if Mr. Yuuki found out?"

"But-!"

"What'd you tell him?"

Akira clenched his fists. "That's not the problem though. Kaori, you have to stay away from Haru! He's dangerous-!"

"Akira, _what did you tell him?"_

"Everything!" he answered exasperatedly. "They've already sent a team to Sotoba, and they're investigating it now! Happy?"

Kaori stared back at her rebellious brother. They sent a team to Sotoba, to investigate the deaths, to uncover those forgotten stories. What were they going to do with those stories? Would it be publicized again, ridiculed to the point no one could possibly take such a gruesome past so seriously? What would society plan for an anomaly like that?

"Akira," Kaori started slowly, "you said I should stay away from Haru."

"Right," he stated.

"Did he really kill someone?"

"Y-yeah—"

"You don't sound too sure of yourself," Kaori replied quietly.

"W-well-"

"_How do you know Akira?_"

"Because…because I have the files. Toma told me everything."

* * *

Megumi shifted through the documents, with a tiny pen dangling around the edge of her fingertips. The blank paper shimmered in the darkness, alongside the ghastly moonlight which filled the room with morbid rays. The silence decorated the evening, with the tiniest traces of pink still left in the skies. Brown, reflexive floors gazed back up at her, and the slightest hints of cleanliness came through the normally disorganized mess surrounding the apartment. Rough sketches were tossed aside in a small, now manageable pile in a trashcan nearby, and seams of clothing were neatly hung at the front door. Smooth fabric cascaded toward the ground, barely reaching the insignificant wisps of dust dancing around the hems.

She furrowed her eyebrows, as she stole a quick glance at the forgotten blankets lying on that lonely, beat-up couch. Yuuki was out again with the yakuza, trying to see if there were any threats left in Tokyo. Aside from Daiki's group, there hasn't been any mention of other vampire syndicates nearby. They all might've run away actually, considering Fawn might've been their only protection. It wasn't a hard fact to take in; after all, with the feeding grounds the Bethlehem Hospital served now burned to the ground, and the tunnels decimated by the flames she's so expertly tamed, they all could've gone somewhere else, forgetting the territories they've tried to culminate. If the two shiki could see who else was here, it'd be easier to guard Mr. Yuuki and the others; it was better than fighting blindly.

She laid the reports on Sotoba upon the table. It seems Toma's finally given up on the task force. How else would she have been able to take control so easily? And as for the various gangs in Omotesando and Denenchofu, Yuuki was already handling those. As long as there weren't anymore abnormal murders, there shouldn't be anymore problems. If things start going awry, then at the very least they could track the deviation down, and end it.

Carefully, she pulled out one of the files nearby. It was a picture of one of the investigators, a man with an incredibly solemn expression outlining his air, with a tiny frown tugging at his lips. A big red x crossed out that face, along with some suggestive doodles off to the side that came with his implied fate. She scanned the page, before catching sight of the last investigation he was in.

Sotoba again.

She narrowed her eyes, as she laid the picture down. This was the eighth officer she'd come across with those same characteristics. It looked like there was a whole team that went to Sotoba, and from her knowledge, they'd yet to return. As for the constant visitors coming to and from the village, the continuous stream of detectives that wanted to uncover Sotoba's horrors, well, they started going missing as well. However, none of the dates were recorded, so it'd be hard to determine the exact time they disappeared. What's more, what little observations the men did write down were incredibly hard to read, though an odd mix of terror and frustration entwined within the letters.

She placed her hand beneath her chin, as she scrutinized the files. Some of the files were missing, that much she could tell; Yuuki's death certificate, as well as her own, the grid that laid out the village schematics, the autopsy reports. The Kirishikis couldn't have destroyed them; if they had Sotoba wouldn't have been recorded in the first place. It wouldn't have been as thorough as this, nor would the files have this much information. Did Toma steal them away? Did Haru have them now?

She closed her eyes, reminiscing the midnight of when she finally escaped from that place. Besides she and Yuuki, no one else made it out. To this day, she could still smell those corpses lying underground, could hear the worthless scratching horrifically shoved against the body bags. She stepped over cremated ashes and stakes, ignored overgrown trash and rubble, if only for the chance to forget about the village altogether. She paid the price for her wishes, and now, even she couldn't remember what she passed. Yuuki knew something, but it's highly unlikely he'd tell her about it. In fact, he was already jumping at the opportunity to forget the village, wasn't he?

But all the same, it was always Sotoba that came back to haunt them.

Why?

Kaori was getting along in her old life just fine. She's been attending her classes, and she's even joined a few clubs, from what Yuuki's told her. Meanwhile, the Sapporo Snow Festival was becoming more and more prominent, the scheduled fashion show gaining more attention with each passing day. Mr. Yuuki and Akira were safely out of the way, and as of now, Tokyo was secure. That incident with the massacre, as with Fawn, seemed to disappear altogether. The murders were forgotten, laughter replacing cries as the humans all gathered, forming one big audience to make fun of the next event that dared showed its face.

It's amazing, how the world could keep moving like that.

Megumi placed the photos in one neat stack, before claiming another, and examining the contents. Haru wasn't dead. If he was, that check never would've arrived at their front door. He wouldn't have visited Megumi, nor would he have reached out to Yuuki the way he did. There was still so much hope left inside of him, and the shiki doubted he'd simply give all that up for another shot at Death. She's known him for far too long now.

Toma, however, was another mystery. He must've known that, should he leave Tokyo, the police would fall back into Megumi's hands. He had to have known that Yuuki was on guard, and that if he returned, they'd know about it. But even with Yuuki searching, Toma wasn't in sight. No countermeasure prepared, no ambush waiting, no new victims to be lured in by sweet, unknowing temptations, good and bad alike, there was nothing, and for that, neither she nor Yuuki could track him down.

How was that possible?

A bright alarm woke her from her thoughts.

Megumi jolted, and turned around, hastily surveying the room, the panic entrenched in her chest. A few seconds later, she sighed, before turning back, seeing a newly bought cellphone lying mere inches away. The black thing rang constantly, the the vibrant tone matching Megumi's growing annoyance. The adrenaline slowly seeped back, and Megumi leaned forward. She grabbed the thing and placed it against her ear. "Jerk."

"_You_ set that ringtone, remember?"

"Whatever," she sighed. She put her chin on the table, and stared at those heavy, velvet curtains, the dark foldings casting over her a black shadow. "What is it? Find anything?"

"I did," Yuuki answered. The end fell silent for a while, before a quiet gibberish began taking over. Finally, Yuuki managed to reclaim the phone. "I ran into your number one idol, by the way," he muttered angrily. "He wants you to put him in the snow festival."

Miyuki's brief career flashed before her eyes. She clenched her fists. "Screw that!" she screamed. "Where is he?! Put him on!"

"He's an _idol_ Shimizu," he reminded. "Anyways, come to Aokigahara tomorrow night, alright?"

Megumi blinked, the calm taking its rightful place. "R-right. But why tomorrow? Do we even have the time for it?"

"There's something I need to check first. Other than that, that's it."

"Fine," Megumi replied, as she stared back down at the police officers. They all seemed so blissful. "By the way, I've taken a look at the files that cop dropped off yesterday. We need to talk about Sotoba-"

"MIYUKI!"

She nearly dropped the phone then, at the sound of that hyperactive voice. She yelped surprisingly, before bitting back a harsh grimace.

She'd know that voice anywhere.

"Miyuki, where the _fuck _is my _damn outfit?!" _Worthington screamed. "I'll sue! You know I will-!"

Megumi waited for a few more seconds before speaking again. "You need a body bag?"

"Probably."

* * *

"Just shut up."

"It's true, isn't it?" Toma pressed, taking one step closer. "They're the reason why this village was destroyed in the first place. You, of all people, should know that."

"I said shut up," Yasuhiko-sama whispered miserably, those piercing, murderous eyes reflecting whatever was left of his corrupt soul.

"They went against those traditions! They knew what would happen if they deviated from that society. In your cursed villagers' eyes, they were already dead, even before they became shiki."

"I said shut up!" Yasuhiko-sama screamed. He took a deep breath then, regaining his senses as he came forth. "How the hell would you know about that? You've always chased after Amber, and you found a home under Fawn. What makes you think you can judge them?"

"I'm not judging them."

"Then what are you doing?"

Toma clutched his sleeves, recalling the tiniest of dreams, happy or otherwise, that he shared with Amber's past memories, those delusions of returning to those wonderful times still present in his heart. They were his, and his alone, and he wasn't going to let anyone trash them like that.

"You're right," he murmured, as he stared up at the boy. He painfully showed a bittersweet smile toward Yasuhiko-sama, the presence of despair already coming to play. "That's half of it, at least. After all, I lost far more than those two did, so I guess you could say I did this out of jealousy. Why should I be the only one to suffer like this?"

_"__Toma-! _

"Look around you," he continued, his gaze drifting steadily around him, the ruins all there, no matter the renovations present. He fell silent. And then he started chuckling. Finally, his own, humorless howls escalated, to the point where the sounds resonated from across the trees, the buildings, the cages, everywhere.

"Look at what's happened! You know what caused this?! You know what the Purge really was?! All it was is just ignorance at its finest!

"Shut up-"

"Natsuno came from that ignorance, holding his own presumptions and notions! Those stupid morals he carried around… and that ill-mannered idea called _justice?! _I can't believe it! I still can't believe he actually bought that crap! He sold out his own _friend just_ to _cling_ to that belief, without any regards to the people he hurt, the people he'd leave behind! That stupid self-righteous stupidity he carried around with him was just another way of _dying_! I'm still laughing!"

"Be quiet!"

"And Megumi?! All she ever cared about was herself! She _abandoned_ her friend willingly for a guy she didn't even know! She was there, when her comrades lay dying, when everything she ever knew was being burned to the ground! But she chose to carry on her own delusions, even to her _deathbed_! She wasn't going to allow anyone to take them, no matter how _impossible_ they were! It wouldn't have been fair, would it?! She's got that same shallowness in her, even with everything that's happened! She still wanted to fit in, even when they're all _dead!" _

"So what?!" Yasuhiko-sama shouted. "They were human! They both-!"

"Made mistakes? Spare me that sick joke!"

Toma breathed, the silence overcoming the two shadows like a tiny, worn out lullaby. The melody lost its touch, the notes a pathetic plea that could never hope to reach beyond Toma's ears. He could see Amber now, staring at him, her own innocence weaving through his sorrows. She was there, crying

No, she was smiling, smiling her tiny, sweet smile. She was wearing that same, pink dress as she had from that rainy afternoon.

"Spare me that sick joke," he repeated brokenly. "It's too cliche. I've heard it a thousand times before."

"Then tell me!" Yasuhiko-sama asserted frustratedly, the very shock that Toma hadn't agreed with him coming down on him so readily. "If they were that bad, then why'd you help me?!"

"When Amber died, she died alone," Toma relayed quietly. He stared at the empty space for some time, before looking up, his dead eyes vivacious with life. "Virgil wanted to help his daughter, so he used all the resources he could to bring her back. Neither he nor his wife cared what they had to do; all they wanted was their baby girl back.

"Meanwhile, I wanted my friend back. I don't know if she understood my suffering. That's right…I don't think she ever did; if she saw me crying, she'd do anything she could to cheer me up again. She didn't comprehend sadness, nor could she understand the concept of death or pain. And yet, for some reason, she never took any of it for granted, even when she experienced it herself.

"But you, _Haru_. You've built your entire world from two, imperfect beings who couldn't even save themselves. You took their pain for granted; you twisted yourself in it, to the point where the damned are all you see. You can't see past that beauty, and as a result, you yourself have fallen."

"Toma."

"I helped you because I wanted to see if you could try breaking out of that shell. I wanted you to use that wealth Virgil left you, and use it for yourself. I wanted you to focus on your own pain, and your own mistakes, before you went off and tried fixing someone else's."

Yasuhiko-sama's lips parted slightly, the anger searing into his expression. He closed his eyes, before opening them again. "I can't honestly see you being like that. Kind? Caring?"

Toma chuckled emptily. "You're right; I'm not. Compared to Amber's suffering, you really are just a brat who can't even control his own emotions."

Yasuhiko-sama clenched his fists. "What'd you do?"

Toma didn't answer.

"TOMA!"

Toma reawakened that same, resigned smile, as he regarded the boy. "Amber's world had crumbled before her very eyes. She lived in a very beautiful one, so I'm not surprised she didn't know about the ugly things in this reality. The lies came crashing down, one by one."

"I'm not asking-!"

"Your world's dying too, isn't it?"

And the boy stopped.

"What…what'd you-?"

"Akira already has the files, and by now, that Tanaka girl should know too."

"You…you _didn't." _

Toma closed his eyes. "I left the police to Megumi, and the yakuza should know something about the murder too. Your friends should be heading to the suicide forest." He smiled slowly, at the appellation, at the boy, at the creatures around him.

What a broken graveyard this was.

"You yourself wore a facade, Haru," Toma said finally. "That sweet, innocent student you wanted to become, that kind, protective friend you desired in your reflection; it's all gone. They'll know, and your lies will come to an end."

"_Toma_…"

"I see. I guess it's my turn to fall too, isn't it?"


	74. Chapter 74

Kaori grunted angrily at the incredibly large bag, as she dragged it toward the exits. Her hands ached at the pain, her skin screaming at the bruises she's singlehandedly managed to accumulate over the past few hours. Heartless motivation bombarded her mind, and just when she was about to ask herself why in the world she was doing such a menial task in the first place, from the corner of her eyes she made out the basketball team, most of whom were too busy "practicing" for their next flawless defeat. Her eye twitched irritatingly toward them, before she turned away, and brushed their fun aside.

She slammed the door open with one foot. Just as she was shoving that bag outside the gym, frustrated fangirls swirled toward her, their seething glares boring her back. Quiet complaints erupted from the audience; the infamous witch managed to cast yet another one of her curses. Ruining fun was like a job to her apparently. Kaori could only sigh, as she shut the door, the noise resonating throughout the hallways. She listened to the echoes for a while. When they finally died down, the girl continued on with her task, all the while a subtle irritation peeked through her veins.

Weren't club activities supposed to be all about teamwork? Why were they all just sitting there? It's not like the guys are _that _attractive.

But then again, neither were they.

Still, Kaori somehow found a way to grumble at their excessive laziness, knowing full well what was going to happen next. When the club sponsor comes back, those bimbos would take all the credit for Kaori's work. What Kaori said after that never actually mattered, and rather than accept some stupid award they all got at the end of the day, she'd have to go back and finish off the task she was "supposed" to do. Big city high schools really were cruel.

Tiny, bright rays peeked through the ominous clouds. As she passed through the corridors, she couldn't help but notice the once dead courtyard now beginning to awaken from its slumber. Things were starting to move again; insects were peeking out from their makeshift nests, and though dead leaves still marred the wet sidewalks, they made way for the upcoming blossoms nearby. The cool humidity latched onto the trunks, and from the small cracks the school windows carried, Kaori could feel the air underneath that moisture, along with a breeze that was struggling to break through winter's confines. She stopped for a bit, if only to take in the afternoon scenes before her.

She'd forgotten to go to that cafe today. Then again, yesterday Natsuno did seem pretty busy, and she told him she had a lot to do tomorrow. Of course, if Kaori knew things were going to end up like this, she would've tagged along with him in the first place. Seriously; why was she the only one that had to suffer like this?

"Tanaka."

She turned around, and smiled at Ken-kun, who awkwardly returned the same greeting.

She loosened her grip on the bag, as she walked toward him, the past tension never once coming across her mind. Immediately, her fatigue faded from her attention, as she imitated the same, relaxing atmosphere Yasuhiko-san naturally radiated. "What're you doing here? Wasn't karaoke night tonight?"

He shrugged. "Kishimoto was sick, so we decided to call it off. But never mind that; what're _you _doing here? The recycling club doesn't meet on Wednesdays."

Kaori chuckled hopelessly, her muscles tensing at the mention of it. "Ah, yeah…well, the teacher said he needed help putting the soccer balls back up. You know, next week the season kicks back up…for…um-"

"You're a real pushover, you know that?"

"Bite me," she muttered wearily then, as she grabbed the bag once again, her bruised knuckles moaning miserably at the ongoing task. Much to her relief, the boy came to her side, and eyed the bag suspiciously, before looking back down at the girl. He was about to open his mouth, but then he closed it, as he pondered on whether or not helping Kaori was even worth his time.

He decided it wasn't, leaving Kaori at the mercy of her oversized bag. She started walking again, the useless Ken-kun accompanying her down the hallway. "So how're your classes?" she asked tiredly. "Any good teachers?"

Ken-kun barked out a harsh laugh. "You ever heard of Yamamoto-sensei?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Well, it's not everyday you get to see someone break down like that," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's got a lot of exes though. I heard she might get fired over the break for having four different affairs with these random juniors. Of course, the little bastards were all peeved. During lunch, they all came in and started screaming at her."

"Crazy. Today, Kosei-sensei started harassing this one guy. He kept doodling all over the attendance sheets, so Kosei-sensei gave him detention for the next month and a half."

"Glad I got out of that class."

"Still, I can't believe Yamamoto-sensei would do something like that," Kaori kept on, enticed by the normality radiating from her own words. "I mean, she was okay, but I didn't think she'd actually…"

"Some people aren't nice."

Kaori looked up at him then; it was strange, hearing those words come from him so casually, especially with all the trouble he's caused.

Akira's accusations came rushing back to her, along with that strange letter he kept shoving in her face. No, it wasn't official; in fact it looked like it was completely fabricated. The handwriting alone was enough for Kaori to doubt Akira's worries, and she's heard the excuse plenty of times from Ken-kun alone.

Kaori bit the inside of her cheek. "You really should take your own advice."

"What?"

"Akira told me Yasuhiko-san killed someone," she stated. "Apparently, he's got a letter to prove it."

Ken-kun sighed. "Tanaka-"

"Seriously Ken-kun, you need to stop doing stuff like that. People get hurt because of the rumors you spread."

"I'm not making this up. It really did happen…wait. Letter?"

"Yeah, Akira showed it to me the other day."

"Huh," the boy said quietly, as he went back to the nothingness in front of him. "Hey, during the break a really weird kid that came to the flower shop. He said something about a game with Akira. That might be where he got it."

Kaori narrowed her eyes. "Game?"

"Yeah, you deaf?" Ken-kun said quietly. "Anyways, I think that kid probably had something to do with it. Your brother's really into detective stuff."

Kaori blinked. "So…you _didn't _tell Akira that-?"

"I did, but I guess he never believed me."

"One of Akira's friends…?"

"Don't know," he said. "The freak said his name was Toma. I didn't get anything else from the brat."

"Ken-kun!" she scolded.

"What?!"

"Follow your own damn advice for once!"

"Come on, really. I'm not making this up," Ken-kun said truthfully. "Okay, I get where you're coming from, but you don't have to ask the teachers, or anyone else. I bet if you go to the police, they'll have a copy of it somewhere."

Kaori narrowed her eyes. "Yasuhiko-san would never do something like that." she said finally, as she continued with her walk.

"Yeah, yeah," Ken-kun said tiredly. "I get it."

"Get what?"

"Still, Kaori Yasuhiko? Come on, even I can come up with a better name than that."

After the conversation, Ken-kun barely managed to limp away with a black eye plastered happily on his face.

* * *

He leaned against the trunk, the folds of his jacket scraping the surface nearby. The cool breeze entwined with ghostly howls from above, the dark, verdant leaves dancing along the midst of the processions. Shadows embraced the wiry branches, and maddening cries gave way to the twisted branches hanging from above. Dead leaves came away from the dirt path, and a lonely quiet draped across the stillness. Night shrouded the miserable, wizened plants nearby, yet still, silhouettes flew away from the forests, the careful silence feeding into the black lust from afar. Creatures scurried about, their soft footsteps brushing away the wastes. Sounds of bodies falling seeped through the atmosphere, the moaning agonies beginning to replace the natural beauty the trees once housed. Nightmarish screams gave way to subtle prayers, an end the jinrou couldn't comprehend in the slightest.

How many people have died like that, from just these seconds alone? Ten? Twenty? There no notes left behind, no words that could have decried their macabre predicaments. No innocence left in the midst, no rebellious cries to the skies above, demanding a fate that, as of this point, was impossible to change. He could practically see them now, begging for their own, horrid lives back, trying to escape the pain of solitude without the companions necessary to do so. They grabbed onto society, desperately clinging for yet another chance at claiming attention, only to be cast away later on.

There was yet another cry out in the distance, and at an instant, Natsuno could smell the remnants left over. A group of friends, from what he could tell. Someone was already calling the ambulance, while the others were trying to keep their wayward companion awake, if only to say how stupid they were for braving the attempts in the first place. A vague resilience came from the victim, as they struggled to close their eyes, to finish off a morbid caress that couldn't even bear their sickening faces to begin with. The loss came forth, and the evening twilight steadily grew from their painful desperation. That victim was unconscious.

Natsuno's dark, amethyst eyes surveyed the environment around him, taking in trees, leaves, insects that had only started reemerging from the cold. The ice wasn't coming back again, and little hints of spring came enfolding toward the air. Blossoms sprouted from their places, with the graceless night coming away from the rising sun altogether. Darkness spread its veil, enticing winter to come back, to sleep until that time had come again, if only to catch onto spring's sweet, sorrowful despair.

He closed his eyes. Haru had killed someone. The whole school knew about it, but only a few weeks ago did Toma actually come to Akira and tell him about it.

He didn't think there was any resentment in Toma's actions; after all, Akira was still breathing. And apparently, it wasn't as a big a deal to Toma as it might've been to Haru, though it was possible the boy hadn't caught on yet. But in the end, it was that secret Natsuno couldn't help but keep pondering about, the reflective surfaces already coming toward him easily.

From Ken's perspective, Kaori couldn't even believe her Yasuhiko-san would do something so horrendous, but all the same, even that wall has started eroding away. Natsuno could see the questions in her eyes, the morbid curiosity as to what the boy was hiding. His disappearance made her suspicions more chaotic. As for Shimizu, just hours ago, she managed to find Haru's record, and by now, she must probably be shifting through the remains. If only there was a body to go along with the statement…

He looked up at the dark skies ahead. It's strange, how different Haru and Tooru were. What meaning had come behind it, Natsuno didn't know. There was nothing he could do to find out, nothing he could ask Tooru or Haru that wouldn't have ended in devastation. Then again, even if there was a topic he could bring up, a subject that could pry open the scandals the two entities hid behind their relations, he was frightened by it. The trials had only just managed to come away from his brain, yet he was still haunted by some nonexistent crime the villagers had pinned him with. There was no basis for it, no justification that could sanctify their vengeance.

He breathed deeply, taking in the neglectful aromas the trees so thoughtlessly left behind. The cries have all died down, and whomever had succeeded in their attempts tonight had left behind empty corpses. The animals were already gathering near to finish off the body, dead or alive. He didn't hear Tooru's voice, nor did he hear the other villagers.

"Yuuki."

Natsuno caught sight of a familiar silhouette standing just a few feet away from him. A dark, red dress loosely clung her body, and the black combat boots she designed not long ago hugged her legs, the heels piercing through the unfortunate obstacles standing in her way. Her ponytails housed two skull ribbons across her hair strands, and on her right ear, a silver bell flower dangled from the lobe, shimmering slightly from the shadows. Her pale skin exuded its own elegance, and as she came a bit forward, her scarlet eyes took in the surroundings.

He pushed himself away from the trunk, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "That idiot didn't follow me."

Shimizu smirked emptily. "Figured he wouldn't. What'd you say anyways?"

"Nothing; I put you on speaker."

"I see."

He shrugged then, as he took care counting the casualties the forest had forcibly welcomed. "Someone will come for the suicides in the morning."

"We don't have much time then, do we?"

Natsuno nodded, before turning away, and starting down that dirt path. Seconds later, Shimizu started following him, and eventually, she caught up to his side, her own gaze shifting through the winding guide. Their shuffling wove its way through the trees, the morbid night instantly claiming those echoes without any effort. Finally, Shimizu stared up at him, and spoke. "Out with it," she said. "What was so important that this had to wait?"

"I wanted to see if Kaori had run into Toma."

Shimizu fell silent again. However, she brushed it aside, and continued on. "Directly?"

"Indirectly," Natsuno answered. "Toma had given Ken an envelop during the break. The boy gave it to Akira, thinking it was some kind of game, and that must be how Akira knew about Haru. Unfortunately, Kaori didn't tell him anything else, just that Haru buried someone here, in this forest."

"Kaori said that?"

"Yes."

Shimizu narrowed her eyes, and then turned away, seeking out any new bodies within the graveyard. "How long ago?"

"Last summer," he replied, recalling the somewhat detailed conversation stretched out in Ken's memory. "It was a girl from cram school. Ken said she was a straight A student, popular-"

"There's no basis for that." Shimizu interrupted. "The files say Haru was at school that day, wasn't he? He had an alibi the night before too."

"That's right."

"Why're we here then?"

"To see if that's really true," Natsuno answered. He stopped, and turned toward Shimizu, a quiet resignation coming away from his eyes. "Last summer, we met Haru. He was depressed, and I think he really was going to kill himself. I even saw rope burns on his neck."

"Yuuki-"

"There has to be a reason for that," he pressed. "After all, you don't just _not_ remember your first time killing someone."

Shimizu stared at the jinrou, the whites in her corneas slowly peeking out from the darkness. She then shifted her gaze elsewhere. "And what if we don't find a body?" she asked. "The animals might've already gotten to it by now."

"Then we'll start back over," he said simply, before walking away.

He knew that possibility to be true, and it was so fragile initially he didn't even want to consider it, but right now, that girl was the only lead they had to go off of. They didn't need old information from the police, and the yakuza certainly weren't helping, aside from wandering around Tokyo and trying to seduce every tourist they met on the streets. Still, if Natsuno and Shimizu could find the body, at the very least they could piece together some of the story. If it turns out Haru was actually close to this girl, they might be able to piece together a motive, a vague predictor as to what that boy will do next.

His thought were interrupted when Shimizu grabbed his wrist. Slowly, his eyes stared at those slender fingers, and he turned back around. "What is it?"

"What about Sotoba?"

"What?"

Shimizu stared up at him, a determined light entwined in her pupils. "Think about it; Fawn was after us because we survived the Purge. The investigators that were sent to the village have all gone missing, and this was _after_ the massacres."

"What of it?"

"If Fawn was investigating Sotoba, more than likely Toma would've known about it. Haru is directly involved with Toma, so if he's taken control, Sotoba's a good place to start."

"Shimizu-"

"Yuuki," she pressed, squeezing his wrist tightly. "Our _death_ certificates are missing."

"Haru _sold_ Fawn Industries, remember?"

"But he only gave us 20% of the profit," she pointed out. "He's not using the money for himself either. If he was, Toma wouldn't have gone out of his way to give Akira that information. He would've lost interest in Haru and go someplace else. It's just too predictable, and Toma would've gotten bored with him then."

"Still, why go so far?" Natsuno questioned, as he folded his arms across his chest. "Haru knows what's happened, and knows what we've become. Covering up a murder should be the least of his concerns, but for some reason, Toma leaked it out. If he _is_ doing something in Sotoba-"

"-then we need to go down there and figure out what's going on."

And then he heard them.

Shimizu's words never made it to his ears, nor her reasoning, nor her logic. Rather, he focused on the taunting coming his way, the enchanting crimson beginning to take fold beneath the shadows. The desperation came forth, filling his mind noisily with a raucous cacophony he couldn't bear to listen to. Their clattering filled his eardrums, from that insignificant, worthless gossip he could repeat every morning, to their prying screeches, the accusations building bit by bit.

He could see them then.

He could see their grotesque, emaciated forms, ravaging through the woods. They were there, with those eerie smiles latched onto their faces, black and white eyes gazing back at him. He could see their black bleeding hearts, rotting decapitated heads that have long since been forgotten. He could see them, and Shimizu was here.

Why?

He grabbed her fingers and entwined them with his, before turning away. He hastily raced through the dirt path. "There's nothing there."

Shimizu grunted at his rushed pace. By the time she regained her balance, she was practically jogging, trying to keep up with the jinrou. She gritted her teeth. "Yuuki-!"

"There are other leads," he murmured quietly, not daring to look back behind him. "Besides, Haru isn't that stupid. "

"That's just it," Shimizu said, as she grabbed his wrist with her other hand. She tugged him back then, and the two came to a halt. She almost slammed into his back, though she stopped herself at the last moment, and looked up. "Why would Haru go to Sotoba if all these people are going missing? Fawn was the very same way, as was Toma. Yuuki, if he really is there, then we need to stop him from doing anything _stupid." _

"We won't find anything there." he replied frustratedly. "Right now, Haru's focusing on Kaori and Akira. If something happens to them-"

"They've got their protection." Shimizu interrupted suddenly, causing Natsuno to fall silent. She tightened her grip on his palm, as she stared up at him defiantly. "If anything happens, someone will know about it. Yakuza, the cops, even Ken; they'll have someone _there. _But it's times like these we can't just play it safe; we need to go back and see what's _wrong _Yuuki."

They were still there.

"That scent back in Shakunetsu no Bara was Tatsumi's." she reminded then. "As was the other villagers."

They were all smiling.

"If Haru's gotten involved, then we need to act."

Why couldn't she _see_ them?

"Yuuki-"

There was a noise.

"If this is about Haru-!"

He instinctively threw his hand over her mouth, his own eyes shrouding in black. Crimson pupils gazed out from beyond the darkness, and through that he scanned the forests.

Past the illusions, the juries, the corpses who were all being eaten alive, there was someone here. A familiar scent unfolded from behind the trees, along with a presence that belonged neither to human or shiki. He clenched his teeth, his already pale skin blanched as he listened for those sounds, listened for the quiet which came with a predator.

He could feel Shimizu's body tense at the seams, and slowly, she pulled away from him, her alert eyes coming underway. She cocked her head, and listened to the same, ambient noise driving through Natsuno's skull. The two started sorting through their senses, trying to decipher the meaning behind it, the existence that so thoughtfully nurtured that waning lullaby.

Someone was stumbling in that darkness. They were bleeding, coughing up the innards within their bodies. Tears streamed down their faces, their heavy breaths coating the last of their rampant mindsets. Blinding recklessness came to being, as they meandered their way through the suicide forest. They were calling out for someone. They were calling out a name, but neither of them knew who. After a few moments of waiting, that person fell.

Natsuno held still for a while, before loosening his grip on Shimizu. His arm came to his side then, as he scanned through the forests. Blood diffused through the air, the aimless sighs bringing about a sharp, intensifying helplessness that coated with it his own vulnerable mind. Slowly, he let go of the Shimizu's hand, and he listened for anymore sounds that might've arose from that moment.

He narrowed his eyes, those brief, resilient seconds still sounding from the strange person. And without further hesitation, they both started toward that noise. He focused on the girl as she kept by his side, the anxiety immediately coming forth from the adrenaline coursing through her system.

He ignored the now absent monsters. Carefully, they came through the bushes and trees, scarcely avoiding the now forgotten trinkets lying somewhere in the ground. And finally, they caught sight of the former predator whom burdened their sensations.

When Natsuno squinted, he saw Toma, who was reaching out for a still heart lying just a few inches away.


	75. Foolishness

_Haru _

I stood there, in a pool of blood, gazing down at the makeshift graveyards. Pain jabbed my skull, the chaotic sensations bombarding my body with every little detail those creatures poured forth. A burning, suffocating black spread across my chest, with a cold, lonely drop cascading down my face. Slowly, I wipe away that drop, and bring it up to my eyes. I wasn't crying.

I stare down at the bloody footprints leading away from the mountainside. Seconds later, I see those feral silhouettes following Toma, their footsteps echoing throughout the empty ruins. Humane expressions grow violent, and their calm horror gave way to rabid monstrosities, all of whom were bent on chasing down their target and tearing it apart. Blight-stricken glares scanned the sea of trees, the pupils mesmerized by the wilderness, by the utter lack of civilization within their midst.

The big one commanded those creatures. Yes, that one, the one who led the Purge. Tomio Ookawa. He was a frightening man, judging from the autopsies alone. He still was.

I stumble forward, the shock resonating down my system. He was one of those villagers, wasn't he? That man, the liquor store owner. He was one of the leaders who led the shiki extermination.

He killed his own son, right?

Natsuno and Megumi wouldn't like that.

So this should be fine.

* * *

I never knew my dad. The first time I asked about him, my mother, along with the rest of my family, would ignore me. They'd stay like that for days, never answering me when I called, never hugging me when I cried, my own greetings falling on deaf ears. The second time I asked, I was beaten half to death. The third time, I was homeless for about a week. I stopped asking about him after a while, and as fast as it came, the tension faded from my already frosty relations. That wretched curiosity will be the end of me, they said.

I was around nine when my mother brought Asaka home. To be perfectly honest, I didn't like him. He was always flexing his muscles to the already disturbed neighbors, always bragging about how one day, he'd take over the yakuza and rule over Japan. He'd go on and on about his imaginary reign, about how everyone will worship him, love him, obey any command if only for a glimpse of his pathetic glory. And usually, mother would listen.

She didn't care how many times he's threatened her, or beaten her, or exploited her, financially or sexually; in the end she was his slave. Initially, I tried dragging her away from him. I did everything a helpless child could at that time, trying to safeguard his mother's dignity while keeping the bad man away. However, when I did, she would always lash out, screaming, shouting, crying, trembling at the thought of having a son who looked like the father he'd never seen. She'd shove me away, threaten to strangle me with a pair of socks, and go back to whatever she was doing with Asaka. After a year had passed, no warmth remained in her eyes.

I liked going to school, simply because of that. I played with classmates, who were untouched by the cruel adult world, and I helped out the teachers, who were always smiling whenever I came through the door. I did everything I was told, and I aced every test. I was invited to birthdays, holidays, vacations, all of which helped me stay away from that our stupid, cramped apartment. Sometimes, I'd even ask the principle if there were any cheap camps far away, if only to remain out of reach from both the yakuza, and my family. He was happy to help.

When I started middle school, mother decided it was time I learn the family business. She would call a week ahead in school and tell the teachers that I couldn't make it class, whether it be medical or religious reasons. Afterwards, she'd take me to Kobe, and she'd meet with the Yamaguchi-gumi clan, where they taught me how to shoot, to stab, to kill in the most efficient way possible. There were rituals I had to memorize before I started high school, and stupid, horrific trials I needed to go through before I could even think about committing to the yakuza. I hated it so much.

After training with the Yamaguchi-gumi clan for two months, mother took me to see the other syndicates. There was a big federation called the Sumiyoshi-kai in Tokyo. For that one, I didn't have to miss school; rather, I simply had to accompany Asaka to the nightlife districts, and watch the syndicates make their bargains there. They were the most civilized of the hierarchy, and from what I've seen, the most inconspicuous; police couldn't keep up with their businesses, and the only time a member got caught was if the cops heard some sketchy rumor from inside one of the brothels. From the Sumiyoshi-kai, I learned how to act, as well as navigate through the tunnels and the red-light districts.

After Sumiyoshi-kai came the Inagawa-kai, a syndicate settled in the Kanto region. Unlike the Yamaguchi-gumi and Sumiyoshi-kai, the Inagawa-kai was our biggest source in revenue. They alone provided for my family's assets, and it was through them mother could afford Asaka his luxurious lifestyle. They also had international resources, and provided the funding for his clandestine activities.

All three clans made up my family's reign, and my mother reigned as their queen. That wench was a big shot in the underworld, and took form of an infamous hit woman by the name _Lucy, _as well as a prostitute with the trade name _Kyoko. _She'd been known to swindle millions of dollars from prominent politicians, nationally and internationally, and there were rumors that she'd been coveting one of the American businessmen. Murder and sex were her hobbies, and if she didn't get her way, she'd utilize her influence to destroy her minuscule, unknowing target.

Asaka was even more ostentatious than she was. He's killed more people than I could count, whether he was paid to do it or not. He was a lowly creature who would somehow lure his victims in for a dinner date. After that, he'd slip drugs in their drinks when those victims weren't looking, and he'd have his way with them, male or female. He was already high up in the Yamaguchi-gumi, and his "assertiveness" over his brethren in the Sumiyoshi-kai grabbed mother's respect and attention.

I only ever thought about getting out of that world. I wanted to go back to my peers and teachers, to everyone waiting for me at school. Good grades, good jobs, good careers, and eventually, those things would be my ticket out of the yakuza life. And when the yakuza paying attention to me, I thought I didn't have to worry about anything anymore.

* * *

One day, my school was attacked.

An argument broke out between some of the syndicate members while I was still in class. I remembered seeing the men outside my classroom, with a broken bicycle in between them. There was a crying girl tightly hugging one man's legs, along with a frantic boy shouting death threats at another man, Asaka, I believe.

One moment, they were simply talking, but the next they were screaming. Finally, guns were drawn, and seconds later, bullets started flying everywhere.

Ten people died.

Another twenty were injured.

Asaka saw me, hiding along with the rest of the students.

* * *

After that day, I was ostracized. My friends, my teachers, strangers I didn't even know; they all gave me dirty looks, and scowled their terrifying, mindless scowls, before turning away, knowing full well the police were stalking me with those intense gazes of theirs. Asaka kept smirking haughtily, saying I didn't need people like that around me. After all, what good were they when they couldn't even handle a bit of blood? I only brushed him aside, and continue on with my somewhat shattered existence.

The invites stopped coming. Teachers started giving me a hard time, and I was a target for bullying for nearly half the school the rest of the year. Every day I'd open my locker, and find tick tacks, spoiled fish, death threats, anything ugly at all pouring out from the metallic door. Enraged loved ones kept beating me up in the streets, demanding that I give them back family members, lovers, friends; they wanted me to pay for what I did, though I hadn't the slightest clue what I was paying for. I kept silent though, hoping foolishly that, at the very least, things would go back to normal. That soon, I could continue being the good student everyone always looked up to, the aspiring individual people could rely on.

That never happened. Threats kept escalating. People started showing up at my house, watching me, pulling out their phones whenever I did…anything. When I'd come up to them, they'd scream and run away, and I knew that later that day, the police would show up at my door, and interrogate me right then and there. Me living in that small, disgusting apartment did little to help my case. My life was a horror movie to them, and for a while, I let them believe that.

Even when I started high school, the rumors persisted. I met a boy named Ken, who managed to fuel those lies, bringing about odd stories, like me being the mastermind behind the killings, or me trying murdering some foreign teacher in a city I've never even heard of. People believed I was in the yakuza, and when that bastard opened his stupid mouth, the pain grew.

Throughout that year, I was isolated. Yes, my grades were still fine, but since I didn't have any friends, I'd usually spend my nights sleeping outside. The only ever time I came back to that apartment was to take a shower, get my things, and continue on with my life. There were months when I'd never seeing my mother or Asaka. Occasionally, we'd accidentally run into each other on the streets. But before they could say anything, I disappear, unable to deal with the monsters standing right in front of me, the monsters who practically ruined my life.

The summers were less stressful. Whenever I go to cram school, the few people that were there left me alone. I got ahead on a lot of my classes, and I finished the work I couldn't do at home. For the rest of the semester, I'd goof off and do something else. Yes, the school's eyes were still on me, but it wasn't as intense. As long as I left them all alone, I was fine.

One night, I was going to back cram school. I'd forgotten a textbook there, and I was scared someone else might've taken it back up. I was already at the bus station, when I saw a girl walking along the same road I was. She had black hair, and her bangs were covering her eyes. She went to my school, from her uniform, and she was reading. I couldn't help but notice she had the same textbook I lost, so I ran up to her, tapped her shoulder, and asked for it back.

When she looked up, the only thing I saw was a tearful, bleeding mess. Makeup ran down her reddish cheeks, her botched face drying away from the anger she's manifested. She started to shout, but she stopped. She stared at me for a while, before shoving the book into my chest. She apologized, then ran off that night.

The next day, I saw that girl again. She had her head down on the desk, and her shoulders kept shaking. She had a grey, long-sleeved jersey on, even though it was summer, and her raven hair was sprawled everywhere. Whenever the teacher called on her, she wouldn't answer. I felt sorry for her, so I waited a few seconds, before answering for her. Though the teacher glared at me for it, begrudgingly, he accepted my words, and continued on with the lesson, never bothering to see what was happening with the strange girl in the front row.

In the afternoon, she came up to me, and apologized again. She introduced herself as Hitomi Goto. I stared at her for a moment, before nodding. That's right; she was that star freshman everyone kept talking about, the wonderful student council president, and the girlfriend of that famous football player who was studying abroad this year. When she wasn't crying, she was pretty, outgoing, and nice. She was always helping people with homework, and when she had time, she'd organize events for the school, events that even I wanted to go to.

I cocked my head, and I asked why. She found my book, didn't she? I'd rather her than Ken or the others.

No, she wanted to thank me for covering her ass with the teacher.

So I asked her what was wrong.

The rest of that fateful day, we talked. Words became sentences, sentences paragraphs, paragraphs speeches. She didn't know me, which, I guess, was a good thing. Meanwhile, I've heard her name, and I told her what I knew. And at that point, it all just came out.

She hated her reputation, not just as the school's idol, but also as her class's sweetheart. Her parents expectations were too high, and her friends wanted too much from her. Two days ago, she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, and just today, there was a group of girls who started harassing her, simply because she didn't want to give them recommendations. She kept going on and on about how hard her life was, how she wanted to just run away from it, even for only a little while. I just sat there, and listened.

From then on, she kept coming to me, whether it be for advice, or the latest gossip. Sometimes, she'd ask me about my own life, something I managed to fabricate vaguely, while other times, I'd ask her about the newest social dramas. She poured out her heart, and by the time she was done, she'd always have that relaxed look on her face. And some time later, she'd invite me out to restaurants, movies, karaoke nights. She didn't bother telling anyone else, since she wanted to be left alone for a while. She'd pay for the first night out, then I would pay, and by then, our routine was established. I didn't know if she was my friend, but it felt nice, to be needed by someone.

The Hitomi everyone knew wasn't at all the girl I knew. She was snarky, for one thing, and she had an incredibly quick temper. If a guy so much as looked at her the wrong way, she'd try picking a fight with them then and there. She didn't like taking crap from anyone, and when she did, she would always use some unfortunate object lying nearby and beat out her frustrations. She hated being ladylike, but she kept up the ruse if only for the people around her. She ate whatever she wanted, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind.

Oftentimes, it was hilarious. I remember when we both accidentally wandered into a bar in a red-light districts. One of the members from the Yamaguchi-gumi came up to us, and started to flip us off. He saw my face, and he stopped, but Hitomi caught it. A few seconds later, she pinned the poor guy to the ground, and nearly broke his neck. When I asked her why she did that, she said she was pissed off. Apparently, she'd just broken up with her boyfriend. When he tried calling her again, she just screamed for him to go die. I decided to leave her alone for the rest of the day.

When the fall semester started, we both just ran into one another. Hitomi showed off her schedule to me, and I her. Soon, we left her clique behind. We talked about what'd happened over the summer, and the trouble she got into when I wasn't around. She kept mentioning some yukata festival coming up, and she wanted me to come with her. She invited a few more friends, but they, of course, weren't from our school, just from some village out the middle of nowhere. I accepted the invite, and for a while, I was happy.

I honestly thought I could forgive Asaka then.

* * *

When the night of the festival came, I met up with everyone at the entrance. They all seemed nice, that group, and since this was their first time in the city, they all depended on me to show them around. I was happy to oblige. I told them the fireworks would start in about two hours, and though the area was big, we could get a lot done.

But we all decided to wait for Hitomi. After all, she's the one who told us about the festival, so the least we could do was wait for her. And besides, there were a lot of games around, and Hitomi loved games.

Ten minutes passed.

Then thirty.

Then fifty.

At last, I give into their wishes. I didn't have Hitomi's number, neither did anyone else. She was already so late, and the villagers were all so tired. I decided then to enter the festival. It wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be. Everything was too bright, the scenery was too loud, and even the fireworks were just a chaotic mesh of colors and noise.

After the festival was over, they all went home. I looked around, and waited another hour for Hitomi, but she never appeared. So I sighed, and I started back to mother and Asaka. I promised them I'd attend some yakuza meeting, but in exchange they had to leave me alone for the rest of the time I was in school. By then, I'd be in a good college, and away from them entirely.

When I came back to the apartment, I saw Hitomi, racing out of the room.

I saw blood running down her legs.

And I saw Asaka laughing his ass off.

* * *

She never told me what happened that night. She didn't want to trouble anyone with her burdens, even if her misery was so very obvious. She was always smiling, and saying that everything was fine, but I knew better. There was one time when I asked her what had happened, but she only smiled, and told me to mind my own fucking business.

Just a few days after that night, rumors surfaced. My own past came back to haunt me, forcing me down with those unsettling stereotypes I thought I'd left behind. It haunted me, and it plagued Hitomi.

Suddenly, people stopped listening to her. Teachers withdrew what little support they gave her, and former friends bombarded her, trying to get her to cry, or beg, or do all the things I couldn't imagine her doing. A lot of guys started harassing her, though Ken wasn't one of them. Someone stole her gym clothes time and time again. Another person wrote all over her desk. One group put rotten junk food and bloody bandages in her locker whenever she wasn't around. _Slut _and _bitch _were always written on the walls.

Her parents heard about the incident, and they punished her for it. They beat her, and starved her, and tried repressing the imperfections she'd been born with. They hated her for breaking their rules, and soon, they abandoned her altogether. They reduced her to the mindless slave she never wanted to be, but eventually, even she accepted that role.

I stood up to them, to everyone. I told them who I was, who my family was. I threatened them if they messed with Hitomi anymore. But the menace escalated, and in the end, Hitomi was alone.

* * *

One night, when we were walking around the streets, I tried playing off the abuse. I kept trying to distract her with upcoming carnivals coming to Japan, with past, playful vacations that I'd seen, with happy memories I still carried in my system. I smiled my fake smile, and I danced around her, like an actor who couldn't act, or a liar who couldn't lie.

But I turned around, and I hoped that, at the very least she would do something. I didn't know what I wanted her to do. Cry? Laugh? Curse the world as she always did, with or without her normal censoring. I wanted her to do something, to show that she still had hope, that she could still make it through this life without them.

Yet she remained as she was.

Later that evening wanted me to go with her to the Aokigahara Forest.

* * *

I remembered Hitomi, on her knees. She had that same expression from the day I met her. She was sobbing. She was screaming. She was shouting at me, trying to get me to do something I didn't want to do. She shoved something in my arms. She kept pointing at herself, all the while desperately squeezing my finger.

I was crying, and she was crying.

She wanted to die.

I didn't want that.

We were both shouting.

We were both struggling.

There was a loud bang.

And I found Hitomi, dead at my feet.

* * *

I'd forgotten what I've done time and time again. But though the days slipped from me, I could still hear her cries, her screams, her constant prayers that some dark angel would come and end her life. And through that, I became an empty corpse drifting by in that sea of pity, never once giving into the nightmares that've enveloped me.

The yakuza did as they pleased, and I wasn't there to stop them. The school continued its terrifying reign, and I stood by as a mere bystander. For some reason, whenever people asked where Hitomi was, I was always making up some excuse, that she was sick, or that she transferred, or that she moved out of the country with her ex-boyfriend, or whatever else came to my mind. Eventually, they all stopped asking. A few months later, she was declared missing. Several weeks after, they had her funeral.

I didn't go.

I didn't know when it started, but soon, people started taking again. They wrapped their grotesque gossip around my life, and began speculating on what could've happened with the missing girl. The police came barging in more than once, and when they interrogated me, it was brutal.

They kept berating me, the officers, reminding me of who I was, what worthless scum I was from. Instead of Hitomi, they kept trying to squeeze out information about the major crime syndicates, though of course, I didn't know anything. They kept going on for days on end, the physical and verbal abuse entwining between callousness and cruelty. By the time they were finished with me, the police had all but given up on Hitomi's case. No one bothered looking for her in the suicide forest. They all thought it was impossible.

When I was finally cleared of suspicion, her parents came up to me. For some reason, they were smiling. It was the same for the other students, and the teachers. Even strangers offered their smiles, all the while dredging up consolation after consolation. I could only stand there, and watch, as they all took my hand, and told me they were sorry for my loss.

I was tired. I was tired of the life I dealt with, tired of the people who forced me into this life. I was tired of everything in this nightmarish reality, so much so I willed Hitomi away, from my thoughts, from my emotions. I was tired of those sins, from the vain pride the students keep stumbling across, from the horrifying indifference the adults keep showing off, from the scarlet trails my own, decadent family left behind. I was tired of the people around me, of the world that refused to stop and listen to the mistakes its made, the tragedies its left behind. I was tired of those worthless rumors getting in my way, the misfortunes that not even my own, childish self could possibly hope to understand.

I was so very, very tired.

* * *

Megumi was a really good designer. I wanted her to indulge in that happiness, though I never considered her thoughts. I wanted to do whatever I could to further her aspirations, whether she knew about it or not. For the most part, she was easy to read, and I loved it.

Natsuno wasn't like that though. In my eyes, he seemed to drift, wandering aimlessly in life, like a troubadour without a home, singing his lonely songs underneath the cold moonlight. I never knew what to make of him, but his own enigmatic aura drew me to him.

At first, I didn't want to expect much. After all, my only friend had already come and gone, ravaging my emotions and memories as she did. But for some reason, I followed Megumi home. I talked with Natsuno at the cafe. For some reason, they alone were enough to stave off the weariness, though I don't know why. Perhaps it was out of frustration. The light had rejected me, and within that darkness, I found yet a cold, but warm embrace that'd take me in. Yes, maybe that was the reason why.

But even that refuge wouldn't last forever. I knew that, but I wanted it to stay, if only for a little longer. I didn't want to end up like Hitomi.

I started struggling again. I kept coming up with ways to recreate the world that was so cruelly shattered before me. I didn't care if it was a lie. I didn't want it to end, no matter how screwed up it was. I thought to myself, hey, they were real people, weren't they? They were out there, in the real world, doing real things, acting more human than I could ever be.

I wanted to join them, in the evening twilight. I wanted to safeguard it, even if I had to be dragged back to the yakuza to do it. I was desperate.

I remembered seeing their death certificates in my hands, along with the autopsies from a village called Sotoba. Fawn was interested in it, so before I even finished investigating the fires in the Bethlehem Hospital, I started working on the Sotoba case with him.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disgusted. When I first saw those corpses, I didn't want to look at them, didn't want to have anything to do with them, for fear their ghosts might come back to haunt me. I cringed at how easily Fawn could play with them, from ripping their limbs off, to tearing away hearts, to even thrashing away at their intestines. All the while, Fawn did everything he could to provide some heartbeat to those already dead bodies.

Shiki; that's what Fawn called them. Sometimes vampires, other times the undead, but mostly shiki, a corpse demon. Though the body was cold, it remained youthful forever, and neither decay nor weakness could touch it. The corpse had enhanced strength and speed, along with crystallite night vision that would allow them to stalk their prey easily. They drew blood from living humans, and that was how they survived. They burned in the sun, and stuff like garlic and crosses worked on them. They could only come inside an inhabited place if they were invited in, and the only way to kill them was by destroying the body before they rose up. Later, Fawn expanded that list to cremation, sunlight, beheading them, or staking them. Megumi was a shiki.

Natsuno was one too, but he was a special kind of shiki. He could walk out in daylight, and he could survive on human food alone, if he feeds every now and then. He didn't need an invitation to come inside a place, and religious relics didn't deter him. He had a pulse, like any other human, and he was warm, unlike Megumi. He was stronger, faster, and could sense things from miles away. Still, he possessed that same, primitive wildness she had, and that dark, graceful elegance that came with each movement.

As Fawn kept on with his research, I decided to look at Sotoba. I wanted to know what it was like there, what they did throughout their lives, what'd happened that made them this way. It was there I stumbled across the Kirishikis, as well as the traditions Sotoba carried.

Those traditions were all so familiar with the society I dealt with. They ostracized Megumi, because of her fashion sense. Even when she was human, there was no place for her, in that village. They were wary Natsuno, simply because he moved there from the big city when he started high school. From there, I managed trace Mr. Yuuki, Natsuno's father, to Kaori's place. I got close to Kaori, if only to see if there was something left from the prejudice, if she remembered anything at all about Sotoba. She told me her story, and from then on, I resolved myself to helping the two remaining shiki, even if I lost myself along the way.

And because of that desire, my desperation became my one, and my only obsession.

* * *

Kaori, and Akira, and Mr. Yuuki; they've all become entwined with a lie I've created. In this reality, they were all tiny little specks of golden light shimmering from beyond my reach, the blooms of warmth steadily easing through my icy fingers.

But I could only imagine what Natsuno and Megumi were like, back when they were still human. I could see their faces now, smiling their wonderful, honest smiles, as they came away from their senses, enjoying only that small, temporal hearth which remained in this turbulent world. They both would sit around that flame, and sleep, their minds filled with endless dreams of mercy and compassion. I loved their peaceful expressions. I wanted that more than anything.

Megumi; I remembered how happy she looked whenever she drew. She was always going on and on about stitch patterns and fabrics. Sometimes, she'd rope me into modeling for her, while other times, she'd try the outfits out on herself. She was vivacious, and whatever she did, she seemed human. There was nothing odd about her at all. Even if you touched her, you wouldn't have been able to tell what she really was. I loved her innocence, and I loved the home she gave me, even if it was starting to crumble away, like shattered, stained glass windows a lonely boy hung up for decorations. She was just like Hitomi, but she carried her own will. She did things her own way, and even if she deviated from that pattern, in the end she was always there. She could never die.

Natsuno was always difficult. I enjoyed talking with him, our conversations ranging from intelligence to stupidity all in the span of a minute. Yet even our talks carried nostalgia and melancholy. Sometimes, there'd be a touch of sadness in his voice, his tone coming out to some unknown person, though the silhouette would always fade away. Other times, he'd simply sit there, and listen, absorbing everyone and everything that came before him, arms folded, that same, emotionless expression latched onto his face. In a sense, you could call him normal too; after all, he did make fun of me, almost as much as Megumi did. He took on Hitomi's habits, hiding behind false smiles and laughter, trying to brush off the pain as much as he could. Yet something darker moved inside his thoughts, like a soothing shadow by the end of twilight.

I knew about Tooru. Toma showed me his autopsy, and I kept staring at it, just wondering who he was, where he'd come from. Megumi and Natsuno had something to do with him, but I didn't know what.

Then again, did I even care?

* * *

I'm standing here, the now cool, dry air coming off my skin. From a distance, I could hear those creatures tearing Toma apart bit by bit. He was still running though. He was doing what he could to get away from those things, though over and over again I hear him screaming Amber's name. He kept seeing her somewhere. There she was, beyond those trees, beyond the mountains, beyond his hands. There she was, lying on the table, practically bleeding to death, with nary a friend nor enemy to stand by her side. There she was, all alone in this sickening reality.

I'm shaking. I don't know why, but I am. I'm smiling, though that same, corrupt sadness races away from my heart. My thoughts are quiet, with remnants of those seething glares staring me down. The only thing that was moving was the sounds of a rhythmic heartbeat, slowly edging away from my ears. Brief glimpses of light catch my eyes, and before long, I stand before those creatures once again. They were all there, ready and waiting for their orders.

They've finished him off.

Toma died.

Something fell to the ground, something wet.

There was a soft, lonely noise calling from this makeshift graveyard. Shadows danced to the sorrow, and whatever past funerals were left had become little more than a nuisance now. The darkness I was so terrified of had suddenly surrounded me, their own, tranquil grasp slowly coming away from my frame. I close my eyes, and welcome it.

There it was again, that wet thing.

I look up, and I see clouds.

It's raining.


	76. Chapter 76

She stared out at the window, the curtain's cloth dangling from her fingers. Bright, white clouds hung overhead, though grey skies settled behind that pure, untainted veil. Cars sped past signs, lights, anything else that dared come to mind, and pedestrians gazed out lazily from their seats, ready for the day to end. Dreary reflections bounced off from the buildings, and if she squinted, she could even the yellow police tape draped all over Shakunetsu no Bara. Officers lingered near street corners, staring nonchalantly at the entire scene, the disinterest evident in their eyes. A few bystanders whispered to one another about the now age-old news story, before going back to their old lives, never bothering again with this unfortunate rumor.

Behind her silhouette was a now clean room. Future designs were all stacked in one pile, the mismatch of colors seemingly bringing about other stories the shiki'd rather not know about, friends whom she'd rather refused to see. All the police reports were placed in two manila folders, both of which were lying on the couch. Tiny bits of fabric were tossed in the wastebasket, and mannequins dressed in what remaining fabric was left stood a few feet away from the table, ready to make their debut. New outfits lay on the couch, along with boxes that were all waiting eagerly to be shipped off to the newest brat that would just throw them away later on.

And yet still, standing behind that couch was Yuuki. His back was turned toward her, his empty gaze not meeting hers in the slightest.

Quiet tremors sounded from down below, a testament to the vivacious family that had just moved in some time ago. In the room next to the shikis', there was an argument that stemmed from one unfaithful partner to the next. All the while the doorbell kept ringing, the adulterer in question unsure of whether or not she should even enter the room. The elevators were going up and down the apartment building, carrying employees, criminals, children, adults, anyone who had any right to enter these rooms. From the lobby, the two vampires could even hear footsteps resounding from across the atmosphere. Phones were ringing, people were talking, and the TV was on. Humans all gathered down there, going to and from wherever they needed to go, without any idea of the tragedies residing within their worlds. Obliviousness clouded their expressions, their own mindsets busily clawing up quiet illusions, if only to continue those worthless, daily habits.

Megumi opened the curtain a bit wider, causing the afternoon light to slowly creep in. Her own elongated shadow stretched across the room. Her lips parted slightly at the daylight, though the sun never showed.

"Shimizu," Yuuki's resigned voice silently said, "get away from there."

"Haru killed him, didn't he?" Megumi inquired, the words helplessly mirroring his. "He killed Toma."

The silence pressed onwards, the mesmerizing subject falling between the two like an unwanted obstacle. Her mind still couldn't register the body they'd found, back at that place. His empty expression grazed her brain, so much so whenever Megumi closed her eyes, she could see Toma laying there, in a puddle of blood, reaching out to a black heart that had long since broke. She could still see his outstretched fingertips desperately reaching for it, without any regret as to what he was claiming it for. His dark, soulless eyes widened at his loveless endeavors, though Megumi had no idea why. A tiny, defeated smile played against his icy, cold lips.

She noticed the contentment radiating from his cold corpse, almost as if he'd fallen asleep to a happy dream's lullaby. He'd been lulled to peace, with Death's merciful judgement passed down with nary a struggle or regret. There he was, reduced to a pathetic victim, stranded by his own darkness, rescued by a light she knew she could never touch.

Finally, Yuuki answered. "I'm not sure. If it is Haru…"

"…then he'll come here."

"It must be because Toma told Akira… about what happened."

Yes, that must be it. Haru might not have any other ally left in this world. Yuuki had the yakuza, and the police weren't going to be of any help to Haru. The boy was emotionally unstable, and though it wasn't safe, he needed to come back to Tokyo, if only to see for himself whether or not he still had those allies. It was logical, in that sense.

She opened her eyes, and gazed way from the streets. Meanwhile, her dark pupils settled towards the ever growing light nearby. That light stretched across everything underneath it, the shadows escaping from their places unflinchingly.

And yet, even then there were still places to hide. "We can't just leave Haru alone, can we?" she said then.

"No."

She shrugged. "Figures," she whispers emptily.

The quiet entered the conversation again, this time, beneath the guise of a nonexistent tension existing between the two shiki. Chaotic emotions spanned beyond the atmosphere, all of which enveloped them both with constant, troublesome memories. "Shimizu," Yuuki suddenly called.

"What?"

"The last time I talked with Haru, he said he was giving up on you."

Megumi heard herself smirk. "Do you believe him?"

"Can't say I do," he answer emotionlessly. She heard him place both palms on the couch, his unreadable air carefully tracing over hers. She reminisced that noise for a while, and she brushed it aside. "So?" she asked.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How do you feel, about Haru?"

Megumi started opening her mouth, but she froze. Her hands grew colder with each passing minute, and her mind succumbed to that troublesome past not even she could undo.

Haru; he was the boy she saw sitting at the steps of the hospital, the boy she found in the woods. He was the reason why she and Yuuki decided to stay together, and the reason why they kept fighting, even after all this time. He brought back pieces of feelings Megumi never bothered to seek out, and even now, while he was away, she could still remember the jokes they've shared together, the stubbornness he emanated whenever he wanted to do something with her. He played the peacekeeper between the two, the annoying little brother, the friend, the hopeless suitor, everything she could possibly have thought of.

So why? Why was he doing this? What could possibly have been worth killing Toma, and Fawn, and Asaka, and all those designers? What was he trying to protect? What'd he want to save? Did he want to avenge someone? Did he want to destroy someone else? What was it?

She could still remember the day she met him. He looked so much like Tooru Mutou she left him on the side of the road to die. Even after that night, the way he kept coming up to her with that idiotic smile of his, and that shy yet cheerful attitude he carried with him, was enough for Megumi to become attached to him somewhat, despite his appearance. An unwanted ghost had descended upon her, but all the same, she managed to see through that. Eventually, she managed to forget that appearance, and she'd had grown fonder of the boy. He was so innocent, so naive that she thought of protecting him, both she and Yuuki. She saw him there, looking as happy as he always did, inviting her to things she had to pretend to enjoy, to activities she might as well have died for. And in doing so, he became a very close friend.

It was the first time she actually felt like she belonged.

What a beautiful lie that was. An unraveling facade that undid its merciful torment, with every memory she carried. Yes, what a beautiful, and cruel, and nostalgic lie that was.

"Shimizu?"

"He's a reminder," Megumi said quietly. Her arms hung limply near her side, though she lifted one hand up, if only to touch the cold glass in front of her. "A painful reminder of everything I ever lost. He forced me to look at Kaori, and he made me move on from Sotoba."

"No, he didn't."

"Yuuki?"

"The clothes," the jinrou started. From the corner of Megumi's eyes, she could see his own shadow raise its arm, pointing toward the mannequins. "They're all from Sotoba. The colors, the stitches, the accessories, everything. And it's funny, because no matter what you did, you kept designing them the same way. It's gotten so repetitive I've stopped paying attention."

Megumi's eyes widened a bit, the surprise slowly seeping through her skin, and her hesitation lingered. But Yuuki continued on, brushing aside her shock with yet another revelation. "A lot of your dresses aren't even for those celebrities either, are they? I take one look at Kaori, and I can see her wearing those dresses perfectly."

Her lips twitched. Yes, she did design one or two dresses that would've looked okay on Kaori, but she never allowed that drive overtake her work. Or, at least, she didn't think she did.

Yet Yuuki was standing right here, telling her everything she'd ever been doing with those dresses. Unlike Megumi, he's seen the models. Unlike Megumi, he's talked with Kaori. He was the only one who could determine who those dresses were for, who they'd fit. But she didn't want to admit it. How could she, when she didn't even want to see that former friend? How could she, when it was Megumi who tossed away Kaori's life on a jealous, petty whim?

Was there a trace of affection left for Kaori? Was that why Megumi did what she did, if only to keep herself away from the insanity lurking near? A want for friendship, an emotion Megumi couldn't begin to describe; all of it, for someone she discarded so very long ago? She saved Kaori, from that girl Yuki, and then again, from that beast nights before. She saved the girl, not because the villagers, nor the desperation of not repeating the massacre at Sotoba over again. It was something much deeper than that, a feeling motivated neither by guilt nor remorse. No confession latched onto that emotion, no illusion Megumi carved up for herself, if only to escape reality.

Megumi killed Kaori's father, didn't she? She killed him, and she pushed the man to attack his family. That was the cold truth of it all, and it was something she could never undo.

"What about you, Yuuki?" she asked after a while. "With all that's happened, is Haru still your friend?"

"Don't know," he answered quietly. "The only reason I came up to him in the first place, was because he reminded me of Tooru." He barked out a harsh laugh, as he recalled those familiar times. "If this is Tooru's way of haunting me, I wouldn't be surprised. Death's an ugly thing after all."

"You're lying."

"I am, huh?"

Megumi pressed her forehead against the surface, those same, crimson pupils peeking out from the velvet daylight. Tiny twinges of quiet despair jabbed her chest, the dark tendrils tightening until Megumi thought she was suffocating. Look at them all down there, laughing off every little misfortune that comes their way, thinking that they'd have tomorrow to settle that business, thinking they'd, at the very least, get another chance to correct those present mistakes.

"You're a liar," she observed softly. "I've seen you, remember? I've seen you time and time again. Life's ugly now, because we're alive, and he's dead. The villagers are all dead, and we're standing here, acting like it's nothing."

She heard Yuuki turn, his eyes boring her back. She stood there, and watched all those people walk by. Quiet reminisces of jubilance flashed their features, before disappearing altogether, replaced by yet another emotion she couldn't make out.

"That's not right," Yuuki stated finally, the couch moaning with a gentle creak. "If that was it, we wouldn't have stayed together for as long as we have. We wouldn't have reached out to Haru, nor would we protect Kaori. If we acted like it was nothing, most certainly we would've already died long ago, at the hands of some petty criminal."

So that's how it is then.

Megumi closed her eyes, the weariness slowly taking form on her face. She didn't want to see them anymore, those humans. She didn't want to see their wasteful lives, or their callous formalities, as they kept on with their shallow emotions. "Yuuki."

"What is it?"

"You've kept some things from me, haven't you?"

He paused for a moment. At last, he answered. "I have."

"Why?"

"Didn't you say so yourself?" he asked, his footsteps resounding from across the studio. "Life's ugly now."

"What kind of secrets were they?"

"Ugly secrets."

She pressed her body against the window frame. She opened her eyes, and pulled the curtains wider. In doing so, she saw the entire city staring at her, its cruel stability mocking hers. Those tainted thoughts reappeared again and again, their constant shifts a heartless awakening to Megumi.

She bit her lip, as she peered far off in the distance. She did't know what she was looking for. But she kept searching, hoping to, at the very least, find someone, or something, that could draw her attention. Anything would do, if only to distract her for a little longer.

"The sun's coming out," she heard Yuuki say. "Shimizu, you need to-"

"I know."

And at an instant, a hand came over her eyes.

The curtain slipped from her grasp. She could hear the fabric draw back, the cool shadows, once again, overcoming her senses. The frosty warmth she barely felt from the window suddenly escaped her touch. That hand forced her back a step, and before she knew it, she was leaning against his frame. "Then get away from the window," Yuuki murmured, the drapes falling away from his fingertips.

His cold palm stretched across her face. Darkness shrouded her vision, but all the same, she could feel that slight, trembling touch embedded across his fingers. She reached up, her fingernails brushing past the back of his hand, if only to remove the shadows from her grasp.

But, she froze then, the icy vibrations radiating from his grip. "Yuuki?"

"That's the first time you've ever done that," he said after a while.

"I've always looked out the windows."

"Not in broad daylight."

She stood there, staring back at that darkness. "It's been a long time, since I've seen those colors."

"And that's why you were standing there for so long?"

"I don't know," Megumi answered. "It's amazing, how they could all just keep going like that. Even in this ugly life."

And there they stayed, near that window, near a light that was already seeping through the clouds. Strands of hair fell across his hand. She could feel another coming toward her eyes, covering the already black veil with yet another shadow. Megumi could feel a soft breath wash over her collarbone, and before long, that breath turned away.

"Then why're you watching them?" he asked. "If it upsets you that much, then don't watch them." He pauses for a moment, and before long, he asks, "You don't hear them?"

Them.

Them who? The nightmares? The illusions? The people they've wronged? The sins they've committed? The monsters they've laughed with? Those hollow graves filled with the same, sick jokes inside?

Megumi felt her hand come up. Carefully, her long, slender fingers touched Yuuki's hand, and immediately, the trembling stopped. Slowly, she brought both palms upon her eyes, and pressed against them. "Are they ugly too?"

"They are."

"Should I see them?"

His dark eyes stare out into the nothingness. She could feel his contemplative gaze take form upon his tired face, as he pressed her against him, his hands still in place. Finally, he smirks emptily. He brings his hands back to his side, the familiar coldness leaving her so easily. "No. I guess not."


	77. Chapter 77

"What? You didn't hear?"

"It's about Miyuki, right?"

Kaori sat at her desk, her eyes carefully down. Her textbooks grabbed hold of a sharp, delicate gleam, as she skimmed the text rapidly, trying to memorize the answers for tomorrow's test.

"She's really gonna do it?"

"Yeah, the celebs won't give her a break. I mean, she's a really good designer after all."

"You think they'd give her some space though…"

Hesitantly, Kaori looked up. Though her eyes weren't directed at anyone, she couldn't help but hear what had gone on in those precious conversations. "She'll be at Sapporo, right?" the boy continued excitedly.

Everyone snickered. "Don't waste your time dude. She never shows up to these things."

"She's from our school though, isn't she?"

"Who knows?"

"Shouldn't we try going? You know, for support?"

"I doubt it."

Kaori gripped the edges of the textbook tightly, as she kept on reading. Her mind grazed through the words, all the while recalling the details she'd so carelessly forgotten. Miyuki, Miyuki, Miyuki; that's all Kaori ever heard nowadays. Most of the time, she'd ignore it, and continue on with her day, but there were times when she couldn't help but get a bit curious. What was Megumi doing now? What she planning on doing from here on out? What'd she think about the latest critiques? Questions like that delved deep into Kaori's mind, to the point she'd ponder on those aspects for hours on end, without getting much of anything done. It didn't help that Natsuno kept popping up too.

"Hey, remember that Haru kid? He knows Miyuki, right?"

"Right, right! Wonder what happened to him…"

"He got killed, didn't he?"

"Heard he got a girl pregnant, and now he's working his ass off."

"Huh? That's not right. I heard he-"

"Tanaka-san."

Immediately, the whole room fell silent. Quiet footsteps echoed throughout the atmosphere, with their deep, prying eyes turned toward the silhouette walking toward her. An easy confidence enveloped the stranger's presence, so much so tiny looks of regret began seeping through their faces. Kaori stopped then, and looked up.

There Yasuhiko-san was, in that same school uniform. Warm eyes stared back at her, in their amiable way, with familiar blond hair messily falling down his forehead. He smiled kindly, with a subtle, relieved sigh escaping from his lips. He made walked toward her desk, and stopped at the side of it, all the while brushing aside the onlooker's inquisitive looks. "Huh, you're still studying?"

_Stay with Haru. _

Kaori's lips parted slightly. Ken's rumors crept back in her brain, the malice resonating from his own pitiful sentences, and though she tried shoving them back, her ears caught wind of the lies. What's more, Natsuno and Megumi came back to her attention, with the very thought that Yasuhiko-san actually knowing them more than enough to carry her confusion. Natsuno, Akira, Mr. Yuuki; all the conversations they've had now began sinking into her system, as Kaori struggled to maintain her composure.

She closed the textbook softly, and stared up at him as she usually did. But Megumi was going by a fake name, and it's not like Yasuhiko-san knows anything about okiagari. He's also too honest to lie about anything; one look at those bright, wide eyes of his, and she could see through his reasoning. She took a deep breath, and feigned a scowl. "Where were you?" she demanded softly. "Everyone's worried!"

"Sorry about that," he chuckled back. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec, out in the hallway?"

"Sure."

He turned around. and gestured her forward. When she stood, he slowly led her out of the classroom, while ignoring the tiny, emotional gasps pouring through the students nearby. Kaori blushed a bit, and raced behind Yasuhiko-san.

Also, Haru friends with Natsuno and Megumi. Winning them over like that was incredible, but she didn't know how. What made him so special, she wondered? What made him so different from her, that those two had so much faith in him?

But that day at the cafe…Natsuno didn't seem to like him very much. And for some reason, he skipped out on school for almost a month. There was also that business with Akira and Ken-kun, and that girl too, the one Haru supposedly killed.

What's going on? Was Ken-kun just messing with Kaori? Those were just rumors, right?

Kaori was so absorbed in her thoughts she almost slammed into Yasuhiko-san. She blinked, and looked around then, the fluorescent lights flickering ominously above them. They were still in the hallways, not far from the classroom. Even from here she could make out the various conversations passing by, the already disinterested bystanders making way for yet another entertaining subject. He turned around then. "So, how've you been?"

Kaori stared at him for a moment, before smirking playfully. "I don't see you for forever, and you give me that?"

He returned her laugh. "Come on Tanaka-san. You haven't been that lonely. You've got a lot of friends now, right?"

"…Where'd you get that?"

His smile faded, replaced by a confused frown. "Wait, you don't? What about that guy, Ken? And the other guy?"

"What other guy?"

"The one that was staring at you in class," he explained, as he scratched his head. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed sheepishly. "I was heading to the principal's office, and I saw your class. Apparently, he'd been looking at you all day. You know him?"

"I don't _wait_." Kaori narrowed her eyes, as she took one step toward him. "Why were you going to the principal's office? Did something happen?"

"No. Well, I guess. I graduated a semester early. I'm just here for my diploma."

"You graduated early?" she repeated stupidly. "And you didn't even tell me about it?"

"Sorry about that," he answered. "I meant to tell you, but I was kind of busy. You know, with family stuff and all that-"

So that's it. Kaori's shoulders relaxed. "So…so how'd you-?"

"Summer school, and a lot of cram school too," Yasuhiko-san said confidently. "I'm not a genius or anything, but I can get around."

"O-oh…"

Yasuhiko-san leaned toward her a bit. "What's wrong?"

Kaori bit her lip. Doubts kept bombarding her mind, and her chest became tighter and tighter with each second. "Hey, you've heard about the Sapporo Snow Festival…right? Apparently, Miyuki's gonna be there."

He averted his eyes elsewhere, a guilt-ridden look easily striking his expression. "Yeah, I know…I still can't believe they're still making her do something this. It's not fair."

"I met her…you know…"

He turned back, pleasant surprise etched into the lines of his face, though melancholy wove its way into his eyes. "I see. Well, how'd things go?"

"It…it's fine. I mean, Miyuki-san was…was really nice, and…yeah."

"Cool," Yasuhiko-san said then, as he placed his hands in his pockets. "Well, with that massacre, she's gonna need all the help she can get. Did she like the present, by the way?"

Megumi's crying face instantly splayed itself across Kaori's eyes. She took a deep breath, and nodded. "Miyuki-san really likes muffins," she lied.

"She's a glutton." he joked playfully.

Kaori eased into a soft, small smile. There's no way he'd know about Megumi. If he had, at least Kaori would be able to tell if he was lying. And he wasn't, so that's good. "You also had a friend named Natsuno too, right?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"What'd he look like?"

Yasuhiko-san relaxed into that comfortable air, the conversation seeping through his candid face. "He's got purple hair, and he wears a checkered jacket. But sometimes, he'll wear black-"

"I've met him."

Yasuhiko-san looked down, a tiny, vivacious beam spread across his cheeks. "Really? Where?"

"A-at a cafe, not far from here."

"You two hit it off?"

"Y-yeah," she answered, as she stared down at the floor. "You're…you're really good friends, aren't you?"

He stayed quiet. Uncertainty clouded his pupils, and that refreshing confidence had instantly vanished. "I don't know."

Kaori looked up. "W-what?"

"I don't know if we're good friends," he repeated again. "I just know that I care about him, that's all." He took a deep, heavy breath, and chuckled. "Well, I can't really read people. But I hope we're friends at least."

"…What an odd answer."

"Well, I'm an odd guy. But never mind about me. How're things with you…and Ken-kun?" he asked suggestively.

"We aren't dating!" Kaori hissed silently, as she smacked Yasuhiko-san's arm.

He grinned. "You're still denying it?"

"He isn't anything! We're just friends!"

"Lies."

"Yasuhiko-san," Kaori started, before faltering. Her fists released, along with a deep pain seated in her stomach. He really was that oblivious, wasn't he? But she continued on, the irritation quickly leaving her eyes. "Ken-kun told me you killed someone."

The boy froze.

Kaori turned away. "He told me you killed someone… and you were never punished for it."

"The whole school's been saying that, you know."

Kaori bit the inside of her cheek. She really was a horrible friend. To be wrapped up in a stupid rumor like that, was beyond disgusting. Yasuhiko-san didn't know anything about Megumi or Natsuno, and aside from the alien conspiracy thing, it wasn't like he was doing anything wrong. Besides, probably the reason why he disappeared in the first place was to get ready for college or something. He was going to leave this place forever, and at the very least Kaori should be congratulating him for it. He was innocent, and what right did she have to doubt him like that? But she couldn't shake off that suspicious feeling, couldn't comprehend the fact that, though she tried squashing her curiosity, it was still there.

She took a deep breath, an apologetic light shining within her cornea. "Yasuhiko-san, I-"

"Do you believe them?"

She swirled back, the astonishment easily shown on her face. Isn't he…going to deny it? "I…I-I-"

Yasuhiko-san shook his head, as he came back toward Kaori. Dark shadows immediately shimmered beneath his eyes, and along with it, a weariness Kaori hadn't seen in a while. "It's fine. It's not like I'll be here forever anyways, so might as well let someone know, right?"

"Yasu-"

"An assisted suicide." he answered coldly.

"…What?"

Yasuhiko-san took a deep breath, and stared up at the ceiling, at the empty space above him, at anything at all, save for her face. Nostalgia permeated from his frame, a subtle sorrow flashing briefly across his expression. When she blinked, it was gone.

"Y-Yasu…hiko-san?"

"Kaori, do me a favor. Stay away from Sapporo, okay?"

Kaori's lips parted slightly. "W-wait, Yasuhiko-san-"

"Please Kaori."

* * *

Megumi stared down at the shimmering blue below, the darkness spread from across the faded horizon. Her left hand pressed lightly against the cold glass, while crimson pupils stared at the ground, which was littered with flyers, tickets, anything that had pertained to the upcoming festival. Small, white tents sporadically dotted the grass, and the sight of the frozen castles up ahead reflected the pure verdant surrounding beneath the structures. Booths called out for attention, and the vibrant atmosphere took hold of the bright lanterns floating aimlessly within the crowds. Christmas lights illuminated the various pathways the audience could swarm, though a few humans still managed to stray toward the darkness, possibly mesmerized by the snowy statues standing protectively in front of their sculptures. Yet somehow, she still caught sight of the staff members, who were busily fumbling with the various schedules in hand. They were accompanied by merciless critics and reporters alike, who were trying to see the list of fashion designers present in Sapporo. The fashion show wasn't for another few days, and already they're swarming.

She clutched her fists, and stood there for a bit longer. Finally, she moved away, her eyes swirling around to the outfit she laid out on the table, at the center of the studio. It wasn't like all the other dresses she'd planned. The skirt only reached to the knees, though the back draped all the way to the floor. The bodice was neat, simple, but there were still tiny ruffles along the neck. The wearer would have a black, see-through ribbon on her neck, one with a shimmering, white rose dangling from the chain. Megumi was supposed to wear it for the finale.

And she couldn't help but laugh to herself. If the great Miyuki wasn't here, rumors will start up again; either she's just really cocky, or she's too stupid to realize how much of a handicap she had. After all, at shows like this, Miyuki was supposed to start networking with other models, idols, celebrities Megumi couldn't even begin to name. It's only because of her designs she managed to get this far, but even Megumi knew that unless she had connections, her career wouldn't last long. Though the Victorian and Gothic designs helped, in the end she didn't have a social building block to stand on. If she didn't do well enough at Sapporo, who knows how many designers will overshadow her.

Megumi towered over the dress, and stroked the outlines delicately. But in the end, none of those things mattered. Sapporo was a televised event, and Haru would never miss something as big as this, especially if Megumi was debuting by herself for the first time. Yuuki will stand in as a male model, so if Haru ever came near him, they'd know. Meanwhile, Megumi will keep an eye out for the boy through the security footage; if he manages to sneak in, or if Yuuki misses him somehow, Megumi could take care of it. That said, if they caught him, they'll have a chance to see what he'd was doing with Toma, what kind of destruction he caused under Fawn's care. She didn't know what to do after that.

She gripped the edges tightly. What made Haru this way she couldn't begin to guess. He was so different from before. He certainly wasn't as depressed, nor self-loathing. Not predictable, but certainly not as clearcut. She couldn't figure out exactly was in his head right now; she'd been racking her brain for days, and she still can't come up with anything. Neither Toma nor that mysterious girl in that forest proved much of anything, other than how dangerous Haru really was.

She closed her eyes, before looking down, staring at the fabric. She bit the inside of her cheek, as she slowly stepped away, grabbed that worn out, purple dress, and thrust it aside. Her fingers slipped between the folds, with the full intent of putting the dress on. However, she stopped herself, in favor of a hesitation that came with all artists.

Was this really alright? She's seen all the other designers' outfits, but they were all pretty grand in one way or another. Vibrant colors, half-naked bodies sticking out toward the cold, ridiculous hairpieces that made Megumi wonder if everyone here was blind; was _that _today's fashion? In comparison, her own styles were more down-to-earth, which was…pretty surprising. Was everyone swept up by the same, ugly disease? Did they have any sense at all? Do the judges care? Were they trying to make a statement?

"Shimizu, someone's been complaining about-"

She turned around, and saw Yuuki.

Nothing came to mind after that. The dress was still between her fingers, the cool wind attacking her bare skin. Then, she could feel that same, unfortunate heat blush spread across her face. But before she could say anything, the door had already slammed shut, with the empty air staring back at her humiliation.

"S-sorry," she heard at last.

Megumi's eyes bore that door, before looking down. She clutched the fabric tightly, her trembling growing more and more apparent.

He saw her.

_He saw her. _

Her beet red face turned darker as she hugged the dress toward her chest. She looked down, and squeaked; she forgot to wear a bra today_. _

"S-so," she called softly, trying to will herself away from the moment. "T-the…the complaint…?"

"Y-yeah," he answered, clearing his throat. "S-someone was asking… when you'd be done. Apparently, they need to use the studio now."

She looked up, the blush instantly vanishing. She narrowed her eyes, as she took in that obviously wrong fact. "What? I've still got thirty more minutes with this room. Who is it?"

"Some guy with a tattoo on his face-"

Hayato.

Hayato Mimoshi.

That stupid _bastard _called her out once in a review, where he kept prodding her with the words "amateur" and "ugly" and "stupid." He's never even _seen _Miyuki before, but he kept saying how she was ex-girlfriend of his who had stalking problems. She'd gotten letters from his female fans about how he was theirs, and that she'd better leave him alone before they tear her apart (funny). He's also one of the reasons why Megumi can't even _network _with some of the other critics and models, which was partly the reason why she had to rely on Sapporo the way she was now.

And he's_ complaining_?

She clenched her teeth, and forced the outfit back on the table. Not here. _Definitely not here. _And just because she's a better designer than him.

Arrogant little _brat_.

She slammed the door open, revealing a shocked Yuuki staring back at her, with an evident blush still on his face. "W-wha-?!"

"That _bitch _is gonna die today!" Megumi screamed, as she stomped away throughout the hallways. She didn't care if anyone else saw her; she was leaving with his head on a platter.

Yuuki grabbed her wrist. "W-wait! Shimizu-!"

"Yuuki, get the rear! We'll corner him in the studio, then-!"

"Put some DAMN CLOTHES ON FIRST!"


	78. Chapter 78

White pierced through the gales, with glistening colors shinning in front of him. Shadows enveloped the oblivious, dancing crowds beneath the twilight, neither isolation nor solitude bothering to touch them. Snowy, playful creatures stared down at him, their childish smiles evoking both terror and anxiety from the children surrounding him, all of whom stood closely to parents, friends, siblings, anyone their tiny arms could get their hands on. Tall, magnificent buildings surrounded the dark blue skies with pure white, all the while reaching high to the tiny, fragile stars up above. Purple shades entwined with azure, and as he drew closer to the structures, protective soldiers stood firm in their entrances, the playthings ready for the enemy to appear. Their blank eyes reflected back what little ice there was on the ground, as well as the fairytale-like air shrouding the festival with mystery and comfort.

His eyes shifted through the crowds, catching sight of the dimly-lighted stands nearby. People huddled near one another, the strangers never once asking who they were, what made them saunter up like that. Happy smiles danced across their faces, and light footsteps scattered about, the noise echoing throughout their blissful cheerfulness. Bodies shivered, people called, and finally, they all sit down, sharing a drink or two before the show finally started.

Haru dredged his gaze forward, and saw the stage up front. It was settled near a large, frozen palace, the celestial lights bouncing off it, with the edge of darkness slowly evoking its calm. The spotlights weren't on, which introduced a soft, nostalgic shadow near the silver. Tenebrous shadows entwined with one another, the amethyst and blue, with a hint of rosette mixed in with the frame. That cold, metallic stage, that was so very similar to the one back at school, and at that company. There were no candles this time, no large, crystal chandelier to radiate the clothing, no chaotic rustling, if only to bathe the outfits in false praises. Nothing at all, save for the savoring umbra nestled within the center. Yet it was grander than anything, more beautiful than the pedestals he'd seen.

He dragged his attention elsewhere. The critics have all gathered, ready to demolish the unfortunate designers who were ready to make their debut. The reporters were there, trying to follow up on the latest entertainment news, all the while digging up information on the already nervous artists. A few idols crowded near, sneakily looking around for their star designers, while endeavoring to remain inconspicuous. He only had to squint to see those shadows wandering about, surrounding the stage with greedy eyes as to what outfit will come out.

He smirked, before looking up at the sky. "You're smart, aren't you?" he whispered silently. A coy smile tugged at his lips then, as he closed his eyes, and breathed in the frigid air.

They probably figured everything out by now, Natsuno and Megumi. They probably have a lot of questions too, and that's why they pushed through with the snow festival. They wanted to try and lure him out, even with all these people here. Natsuno, after all, wasn't one to forgive and forget, and Megumi was just as stubborn. Haru bore a resemblance to that guy too, Tooru, so that could be another reason why.

It was that sole fact Haru told Tanaka-san to stay behind. It's bad enough he was being compared to that coward, but he didn't want Tanaka-san to see him that way either. He didn't want her to see him as just another murderer.

And yet he couldn't get her question out of his mind either. What'd he want from her anyways? Compassion? Understanding? Sympathy? Did he want to rebuild the lie that had already fallen away before his eyes? Did he want her to become veiled in that very same delusion? If he did, what would he have to do then, to hide the extent of his sins? What'd he have to do to get Natsuno and Megumi to understand, just as Kaori had?

He didn't want to abandon that ideal. He _couldn't _abandon that ideal, not when those two were suffering right in front of him. Every time he saw Natsuno, that hateful look resided in his eyes. A ghost had taken form within Haru's place, and even when they talked, in that little cafe out in the middle of an urban desert, the only thing Natsuno saw was a friend who'd already died. There was nothing Haru could've done, and if he tried, the boy knew full well he'd lose that friendship, even when it had eroded to nothing.

He clenched his fists. Megumi was a bit different. That same person came within her eyes, but rather than hate, only guilt remained. Guilt, and disgust, for a person that wasn't even here. To her, Haru was nothing more than a mere appellation, of the guy she once knew, and that was, perhaps, why he was able to stay with her for so long. The immature crush he gave into, the romantic blossoms that filled him whenever he saw her; it all faded, the moment she turned that stare back at him.

Yet he stayed. He couldn't afford to lose them, especially to some traitor who's rotting six feet under. He's the reason Natsuno and Megumi are suffering now, and it'd be better if they just forgot about Mutou completely. The way Natsuno had been acting had proven just how far Mutou had influenced them. And if Haru did something about that, he knew they'd be happier.

The village was also a focal point too, wasn't it? If only the villagers hadn't treated Megumi the way they did, then maybe she wouldn't have to take on their punishments anymore. She wouldn't have to carry on that suicidal will of hers, nor did she have to sacrifice herself for the thoughts she couldn't even stand. She could concentrate on herself, on her friends, on Natsuno. She'd be free of it all, free from that sorrowful human girl she once was, free from the insults and humiliation, free from the merciless looks she'd keep getting from the past.

And Natsuno too. If only he could just forget the burdens Mutou placed on him, the remorse that clouded him, maybe he could live a more humane life. He wouldn't have to spend the rest of eternity sitting somewhere in the shadows, cowering at the nightmares that placed him on that stupid stand, ready to judge him for the monster he wasn't. He wouldn't have to hide anymore, because he would've already torn those villagers to shreds. He would've buried that past, and he'd go on with Megumi, somewhere in this world, living out the life he should've lived.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of two familiar beasts lurking from behind the trees. His breathing slowed, and his arms hung limply at his side. Those creatures were amalgamations of the village's corpses. The bully named Tatsumi, that girl called Yoshie, the Kirishikis; all of them were just blobs without form, and somehow, someway, he managed to reforge them into something more. It was all so very strange; he reattached the limbs, reestablished the circulatory system, and there they all were, just moving about, their appearance as gruesome as their soulless hearts.

Haru held his palm against his lips, and breathed into them, his sickening warmth reaching his pale fingertips. Haru destroyed Fawn because the boy needed the resources to create that perfect haven, if only for the ones who saved him. He annihilated Megumi's company, because he wanted to test those creatures, to see if they could work just like a normal being would, like a shiki would. He purged Toma, because he didn't understand the hurt those two had gone through.

He frowned. The only reason why he didn't touch that Ken bastard was because Kaori was close to him. If he had his way, Ken would've relieved all the pain he caused Haru, for so many years. Asaka would pay too, though Fawn beat him to it. And everyone at school, and the yakuza, and those stupid factions in Tokyo…

But does it even matter?

He stared up at the lonely clouds. No, it doesn't. In fact, he couldn't care less about that. If Natsuno and Megumi would turn, and look at him, even briefly, with those genuine, caring smiles he'd gotten so used to seeing, that'd be enough. As long as Sotoba wasn't dragging them down, those past sins now faded within the black, he'd be fine.

He felt something on his face, and he blinked. Carefully, he held out his palm, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

Funny. They said it wouldn't snow tonight.

* * *

Natsuno peeked out from the curtains, his eyes fixated at the bright, flashing stage below him. The audience was seated, the host was getting ready, and a few of the models were arrogantly adjusting their dresses, trying to, at the very least, make themselves a bit more attractive than necessary. Even Shimizu's idol was getting a little fidgety, but fortunately, she never touched the dress.

"Look at him!" a loud whisper hissed from across the room.

"I know, right?!"

Slowly, he turned around, his bangs falling over his face. There was another model behind him, female, wearing a low-cut, golden dress, with a sparkly white shawl draped around her shoulders. She had a group of black and green feathers attached to the right side of her head, with a black rose at the center of it all. The outfit would've been fine, if not for the disgusting scowl on her face. Beside her was another model, who was snickering flirtatiously at her companion. Their hushed voices lowered when they caught his gaze, and they turned away, crimson creeping up their blanched, sweaty necks.

He blinked, before looking away. Glittering streams of fabric descended from the tables, as the various designers hurried their charges along. Tiny embroidered patterns popped out from the bland backgrounds, with mixes of red, yellow, blue, anything that added to the vivacious, frustrated atmosphere everyone had to deal with. Jewels adorned necks, and the vague scent of cologne shrouded the air, a testament to the nervousness all the male models felt. Sparkles fell away from outfits, and beads of sweat collided with anger, entwining into a sort of movement Natsuno hadn't seen. Daunting footsteps became little more than graceless dances across some distant ballroom. Reflections glared back at the light, and scattered remnants of models and designers all gave way to a colorful mosaic he couldn't help but admire.

So this was the world Shimizu immersed herself in. They were all so ignorant, carried away by the tiniest of details, details that may not even matter within their competitive natures. They freaked out over the smallest mistakes, and whatever appearances they took hold for themselves seemed to do little in regards to their self-esteem, both models and designers alike. Sometimes, there'd be whispers, other times shouts, though in the end, they all managed to pull through, however sloppy an emotional mess they've created. It was so different from everything he's seen. Did Shimizu feel the same way? He couldn't tell.

"427, Miyuki," the announcer called.

Immediately, everyone in the room fell silent.

Slowly, he moved away from the window, and passed the various onlookers, all of whom gawked at one another. He maneuvered around them, and quietly opened the door. He crept outside, and moved toward the elevators.

Personally, he didn't know what to expect from the crowds. He didn't know how many strangers were all gathered for this one little thing, and anyone could hide behind their shadows, sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally. It was that aspect Natsuno could understand. Will Haru be hiding in the crowds he once happily insulted? Will he disguise himself as part of that society? Will he stand out, as he did so many times before?

The iron doors opened, and Natsuno slipped in. A long, slender finger reached for the buttons, the cold metal enveloping his skin as he did. His arm came limply back to his side, and he turned toward the glass. He could make out the intricate designs the snowflakes gave off, and if he squinted his eyes, he saw the formless silhouettes just behind the white.

He didn't see Tooru today, or any of the other villagers. Shimizu didn't see them either, but then again, she never did. All those ugly creatures had instantly vanished the moment he removed his hands from her eyes, and though he told her not to look at those judges, in the end he wondered if they'd come after her too.

He pondered if Tooru was that maddened over his death, if what Natsuno had done was really that bad. The Tooru he knew wasn't as fearless as that; he was weaker, idealistic, more hopeless than the models here. Was that appellation…really Tooru then? Was Tooru so upset he would devastate his sanity, as well as Natsuno's for the sake of…of what?

Natsuno put his hands in his pockets, and closed his eyes. It wasn't like at the village, where he was willing to destroy everything around him, if only for the empty sake of saving a group who ended up dying anyways. He didn't think the village would end up decimating itself, nor did he predict that those long, forgotten graves would be so empty, to the point only ghosts had started haunting them now. A truth that had evaporated, along with the many lies it instigated, was something Natsuno delved into without a single hesitation, even if he sacrificed his friend along the way.

He clenched his teeth. Tooru killed him. Even if Tatsumi did threaten him, Tooru still did it. And Natsuno returned the favor. That's just how it was, wasn't it?

So why couldn't Tooru…just leave him alone?

The elevator stopped, and Natsuno stepped out. His eyes carefully surveyed the still panicking designers, all of whom were gathered around the already irritated models. Last minute changes were made, complaints were screamed, and a begrudging acceptance evoked throughout the air as the two parted ways, never once looking at each other with the same respect they had just days before. He looked around for a while, before making his way toward a familiar shadow, who was holding a simple, plain mask in her hands.

Shimizu wasn't apart of Sotoba anymore. Somehow, none of the ghosts managed to find her, even with the crimes she carried. No, he didn't envy her. For some reason he was happy they didn't find her, however impossible that was. She was a shiki, but she was more human than the villagers. She wasn't weak like Tooru, nor was she as fragile, so she wouldn't have to suffer like they all did. And who knows? Perhaps she'll be the one to burn down those sins.

But he wouldn't allow it. Natsuno had to be the one to do it, if only to purge those ugly things from a cruel, tainted life. He'll burn the jury, and the judges, and the stakes with those funeral pyres surrounding them. He'll pass judgement, underneath the embers, the flames reducing Tooru's own, self-righteous acts to ash.

She walked over to him, Shimizu, with the mask dangling in her fingertips. She stopped, and stared at him, that same, tiny blush still spread across her cheeks. But she shrugged, as she took another step forward, and tied the mask around his face. He would've done it himself, but whenever he tried, Shimizu would rip the mask out of his hands and check the plastic for any damage.

Her cold fingers tied the ribbon around the side of his head. She stepped back, and examined her work. She smiled, pleased with the job she'd done, before turning her head toward the door. The curtains were there, ready to introduce the unfortunate models to a sea of troubled bystanders. He cocked his head a little, and then narrowed his eyes.

Haru.

He flickered his pupils toward Shimizu, before moving away from her. The curtains were opening.

* * *

Megumi walked up the stairs, hands to her side, her heels resounding from the hallways. Bright azure hung from the high ceiling, in the form of curtains and ornaments swaying within the artificial breeze. Indifferent, silver floors reflected her weary eyes, the dark shadows settled beneath her orbs entwined with her pale skin. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the snow, falling gently onto the stage, as the crowd awed at the false beauty taken form on stage.

The heat was finally gone from her face, replaced by a relief that the incident had gone away from Yuuki's mind. So she closed her eyes, and breathed in that familiar scents. There was Tatsumi again, the Kirishikis. Yoshie was mixed in there somewhere, and Masao too. All of which took form of two existences she knew she'd seen before.

She opened her eyes.

Those monsters are with him.

She clenched her fists, as she climbed the staircase. The villagers were here, but she didn't know how. She could feel their haughty stares boring her back, their laughter pierce her eardrums, as they dashed away whatever pathetic remorse she had left for them. She could piece together their happiness, their own place that had nothing left for her within that hopeless place. But it was unnecessary. She knew she wasn't welcome.

She stopped when she felt that same, unwelcome existence just below her. She could feel that small, miniature ax in the folds of her clothes, her hand slowly slipping beneath the folds to reach the handle. She turned around, stared down at the just sitting below. Its wide, black eyes stared up at her, saliva dripping down upon its lips.

"Tatsumi."

No answer.

"Tatsumi," she called again.

Still, nothing.

She couldn't help but smirk, as she pulled out the ax. She leaned over the railing, her hair falling over her face. Everyone else was outside, and no one would dare come in, especially when the fashion show was going on. She gripped the rail, and stared down at the monster.

No, it wasn't just Tatsumi. Yoshie's scent was coming off that thing too, and Chizuru's. Masao's presence was nearby.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Before she could say anything more, that monster suddenly howled its piercing screams. She winced at the sound, and when she looked up, that same monster bounded for her, claws outstretched.


	79. Chapter 79

Natsuno stared out at the blinding crowds, the mask failing to shroud whatever flashes splattered blindingly throughout his vision. He bit down a grimace, as he walked to the front of the stage, his dark, endless eyes keeping watch over the crowds. He ignored the judges' scrutinizing eyes, the loud, drunken critics, as he surveyed the sea of bodies, if only for that familiar face. But no; only cold faces stared back at him, their empty smiles coming away from his eyes. All the while they looked around, trying to catch a sight of their beloved idols, designers, whomever they wanted to stalk later on. He closed his eyes, and turned away, his fists clenched.

The vague aroma of blood reached him. It wasn't just Tatsumi this time; there's Yoshie, that Kirishiki woman, Masao…all embodied in the presences he couldn't stand. Shimizu was struggling right now, though she was a lot calmer than the last time. In fact, he might as well have not even worried about her to begin with.

The jinrou walked through the pure, white curtains, shrouding himself with light blue shadows, the loneliness echoing throughout the corridor. That's right; everyone had already left for the stage, eagerly waiting their turns to be criticized, insulted. He could see them now, crying out their eyes as they tried to get the judges to take back their statements, picking up the remnants of whatever broken dream they've harbored. Would Shimizu be one of them? Not likely.

"Natsuno."

A loud alarm resounded from the back of his ears.

He turned around, seeing the confused crowds now shuffling through the stage, trying to get to their idols as inconspicuously as possible. The security guards poured out, shoving the audience back while grabbing whomever they could. Spoiled brats screamed their titles, trying to advertise their clothing line. Fans cried out for their deities, doing whatever they could to see them with their own eyes, to know that they do, in fact, exist. Chaotic dances took form within the panic, all the while one calm, quiet presence remained, with a tiny, sad smile spread across his face. Screams greeted alarms.

And after that, howls.

Natsuno stopped, as the footsteps softly followed him into the building. Tooru's eyes peered at him from the darkness, a sick, thoughtless revenge twisting his already sickening face. Soundless words emerge from his throat, and dark, crimson eyes stared out at the reflection that took his place. The villagers didn't accompany him this time, though somewhere far off, the shiki could hear them too, crying out pleasurably at the destruction they've managed to cause.

Blood spilt to the ground, as the audience reverted, instincts taking over decency. People were trampled over, limbs were broken, gun shots rang. Terror radiated from the atmosphere, as the police scrambled out of the way of the monsters now circling the building. Claws replaced footsteps, and blood curdled to little more than a disgusting embrace, one devoid of warmth and life. Natsuno blocked his senses, as he stared out at the nothingness in front of him, though the nonexistent scarlet taking form deep from within his mind. He takes a deep, heavy breath, and turned around. "Haru."

Dark shadows lay beneath the boy's eyes, with pale, clammy skin sharply contrasting to the already pure white surrounding them. He wore a simple, white coat, and a golden, fluffy scarf wrapped delicately around his throat. His hands hung limply to his side, his cool fingertips barely touching the fabric of his black jeans. Light, caramel pupils gave Natsuno back at his own image, but though that same innocent light shimmered deep within his eyes, in the end Natsuno couldn't stand it.

Haru beamed brightly, an amiable smile stretched out across his lips. His eyes grew visibly lighter, as they fixate themselves toward the ground. He laughed sheepishly. "Y-yeah. It's been a while. S-sorry…about me not-"

"It's fine," Natsuno dismissed, keeping track of the subtle echoes vibrating throughout the building.

"Hey," Haru said enthusiastically, "Megumi did a really good job this time!"

"When'd you find out?"

Haru instantly froze. An empty expression decorated Natsuno's face, his hand slowly coming up to undo the mask. The boy sighed, as he placed his hands in his pockets. "Fawn asked me to investigate the fires at the hospital, and after a little digging… I found out about the syndicates. I asked Kaori about it too."

"I see." he said quietly, the mask to dangling from his fingertips. Natsuno stared at the plastic, all the while making out the blurry, blond silhouette appearing across the surface. "And I'm guessing you worked with Toma too, didn't you?"

He nods. "He's the one who gave me your death certificates."

Natsuno's mouth twitched. He saw Tooru there, embedded in the boy's frame. A quiet, calm demeanor radiated from the dead person, with nary a regret or sorrow entwined in his features. A delusional, self-righteous look came forward, with those painful memories pressing forth along his once peaceful, vulnerable goodness. Was there anything humane left? Were there still any precious memories left, now that Tooru had given Natsuno his answer? Shimizu asked about him once, but now…not even Natsuno knew if he gave the right answer.

"Were you the one behind the attacks?" Natsuno pressed.

"The last fashion show was my fault. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to get Kaori caught up in it." A brief flash of remorse relayed through his frown, but it didn't lasted long. "You and Megumi seem really close to her. It's because of her I know you aren't monsters."

"So you let that beast in the company building," he murmured, the mask's cool ribbons slowly slipping from his fingertips. "What about Fawn? Were you the one who killed him?"

"I was." Haru closed his eyes. "He was chasing after someone, and when they died, he couldn't handle it. You could almost call it…a mercy killing."

"What about Toma?"

"He was just in the way."

"And Asaka?"

"I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Do you know what happened to Yume?"

"I do."

"Were you the one who made her like that?"

"No. I didn't even realize it was Yume until I checked the files." He opened his eyes, his piercing stare just as cowardly as Tooru's. "I don't know how I felt about her death. You ripped her heart out though, so I guess…"

"And the creatures?" he inquired quietly. "What are they?"

"Villagers from Sotoba." Haru explained. "Fawn was already doing the experiments. I just finished them is all."

Shimizu's crumpled body flashed Natsuno's eyes. He saw her fragile hands reaching out for refuge, for a haven that couldn't possibly have existed in this world. Her blood seeped through his palms, her icy touch growing colder by the second. Lost, devoid eyes stared back up at him, her beautiful, untamed eyes robbed of their liveliness. And he gazed back at the villagers, at the jury, from so long ago. "And what'd you want us to do with them?"

"End them."

"They obey you, don't they?"

"It's justice."

"For?"

"For everything they've ever done to you," Haru answered, a subtle hopefulness radiating from the calm.

Natsuno's lips parted slightly, the weight of the boy's words gradually sinking into his system. Empty eyes widened, the mask barely slipping from his grasp before he caught onto it again. "What're you talking about?"

"I know about it Natsuno," he said quietly, as he took a step forward. "I know about the Purge, and what the villagers did to you and Megumi. At the very least, you should-"

He didn't hear anything else the boy had to say.

The memories engulfed Natsuno, as he endeavored forcing down whatever humor had risen up from the irony. Graves, relics, stakes, anything that sweet, innocent, naive phenomena called Death, slowly took precedence in his brain. Tooru crying out his window, Tooru blatantly refusing to disobey Tatsumi, Tooru cowering at whenever a threat came by, Tooru telling Natsuno everything he could've possibly thought of, if only to bring about the shikis' ultimate end…

…Was excruciatingly painful.

That dead face lying on the ground, the flames reflecting off the surface, the strange relief coating across his expression as he carried Ritsuko's hand in his, the resignation permeating from his corpse, even though in the end he knew his end would be so utterly painful; it was all just too…too…

Too what?

Pathetic? Sad? Twisted? Melancholic? Nostalgic? Tooru wanted to live, even if he had to kill. He was ready to abandon his morals, if only for the crude chance of remaining where he was, for the sole purpose of existing. Humanity, rules, punishments; even with those decaying morals, in the end Tooru abandoned them all. Food; that was what Tooru viewed the villagers as, what he viewed Natsuno as. Instinct replaced logic, as he shoved away the remorse that might've come with his killings.

Natsuno looked at Haru, as those soundless words beat against his eardrums. Here Tooru's ghost was, pulling off that same, stupid trick he had before. Ready to give it all up, his morality, his humanity, if only for the sake of something that wasn't even supposed to exist. Here Haru was, doing whatever he could to preserve a broken pedestal, one that didn't even have the right to rise up in the first place. What made him so desperate like that? What made Haru reach out to both he and Megumi like that, if only for him to die the very next second? Was that delusion worth it, in the end? Did he have fun, doing whatever he wanted to do, without the burden of seeking out what was left of his dying soul?

And he started laughing.

He laughed at that pedestal. He laughed at the standards Tooru used, the memories he'd forgotten. He laughed at his friend's death, at the jury he somehow forced himself into believing. He laughed at the helplessness of it all, at the nightmares Tooru had given him, only for those concerns to be dashed aside by torrential depressions and insignificant tears. He laughed at how petty Shimizu's jealousy was, at how shallow Tooru's own concerns were in the end. He laughed at everything that'd happened since Sotoba, at the desolation Tooru somehow introduced to Natsuno's crumbling sanity. He laughed at it all.

And when he was done, he steadied himself, brushing aside Haru's shocked face. He closed his eyes, stray chuckles still escaping his lips. He took a deep, steady breath. "Haru," he whispered, that same, empty smile grazing his lips. "Do you really know what'd happened in Sotoba?"

"I…I already know!" Haru asserted. "That's why I-!"

"You think we're that perfect, huh?" he muttered silently, as he averted his gaze elsewhere, all the while clutching the mask in his hand tightly. He kept laughing at the notion, as the scenes replayed in his mind over and over again. "Haru, I _killed _people. You honestly think I have a right to _judge_ them?"

"You didn't do anything wrong though!" he shouted. "Neither you or Megumi…you shouldn't have to suffer like this!"

"You're really weird, you know that?"

"…N-Natsuno?"

"I don't think you get it," he said. There were more of those beasts coming, and already they were aiming for Shimizu. Yet the urgency of the situation never came to him. Rather, a soft, quiet calm stretched throughout his body, as he kept shifting through those precious moments, back at the village. He kept seeing all their smiles over and over again, though the only one who marred it all…was Tooru. "I killed the people when I rose up. I killed them, then I tried killing myself too."

"T-that's all in the past. I-if you just come with me, then I'll-"

"You'll what?" he sneered. "You'll forgive us? Make sure we don't have to suffer again? Life doesn't work like that; you, of all people, should know that"

"N-no! That's not it!" Haru shouted. "Listen, there's a place for you and Megumi! You won't have to worry about that anymore! You don't have to keep tearing yourselves apart like this!"

"And I figure that place is Sotoba, doesn't it?" he hissed. "Forget it. I'm never going back there. Not me, and not Shimizu, either."

"But if you stay here, you'll-!"

"I don't care!" he suddenly shouted. He paused for a brief moment, the emotions inside slowly swirling out of control. "What makes you think you have the right to decide everything? You're just an outsider, so you don't get a say… in anything."

Haru clenched his fists. "You're my friends. I can't just leave you like this!"

Natsuno smirked, listening in on the heavy footsteps swirling around them. "Of course you can't. Even if the whole world was burning around you, you just won't go away. You won't stop following us, even if I break both your legs, or tie you up and burn you at a stake."

The boy stared at Natsuno stubbornly, before a small, sad smile entwines within his face. "Well, yeah. We are friends, aren't we?"

Friends, huh?

The mask slipped from Natsuno's grasp then, as he stared up at Haru darkly. He could practically see Tooru now, with that same, emotionless smile sitting there upon his face. Shimizu wasn't with him. Of course she wasn't; in the end she won't be looking for him.

And neither will Natsuno.

"You're just like him, aren't you?" he murmured quietly. He glared at Tooru, at Haru, at the judge standing before him, at the jury, who instantly entered the building through their horrendous forms and sickening rage.

_Should I see them?_

Natsuno took a deep breath, as he regarded Haru evenly. He smiled then. "No, you shouldn't."

* * *

Megumi flung herself away from the monster. Glass shards passed by her flailing body while she struggled to regain her balance. The creature howled painfully at its mistake, its blinded eyes stretching out, if only to follow her faded silhouette. It spun toward the shiki, and raced for her, the saliva grotesquely dripping from its mouth.

She narrowed her eyes, as she took a step back, before launching herself forward. The beast grabbed her arm and twisted it, a sick crack resounding through the air. She bit her lip, but she swung the ax above her head and chopped off the forelimbs. She ignored its piercing howls, as she pushed herself her arm from its grasp. She swept underneath its claws, and dug the ax into its abdomen, the familiar scents attacking her. She gripped the pale blue skin, and memorized the organs that were so easily seen beneath the skin.

She suddenly felt a sharp claw tear away at her torso. She ripped the ax out, the slightest traces of blood splattered all over her face. Instantly, she felt wind behind her back. A few seconds later, she slammed onto the ground, the force shattering every single bone in her body. She gasped, her nails clawing away at the ground. From the corner of her eyes, she could make out a piece of flesh she'd gotten from that beast.

Tatsumi. This one's from Tatsumi.

She grunted, and stared up. That monster's jumped off, its mouth open, its grief-stricken body ready to feed. She stood, spitting out blood from her mouth, as she held the ax in front of her, the blade stretched out to meet its jaws. Those organs were coming undone, but if she could sever the arteries, then she'd be fine.

She grunted underneath the monster's weight, as it pressed its claws against the ground. Its jaws clutched the blade, trying to tear it away in all its ferocious hate. Her eyes widened, and when she looked down, she saw its arm rush toward her, the claws aimed at her chest. She twisted her body and dodged it, all the while destroying its mandibles. The arms swung around wildly, the stitches bound tightly against the muscles. She evaded them all, and swung the ax near the back of the creature. She heard a loud crack, before pulling the ax away, and running over to the creature's blind spot. She swept the blade upwards, tearing apart those delicate stitches. Before it could attack her again, she jumped back, steadying herself from the blood loss.

A few seconds later, when she looked up, it was charging at her again. She placed the ax in front of her, her crimson eyes radiating from the darkness. The wounds weren't healing as fast as they should, and even from here, she could make out organs desperately trying to reach out to one another, endeavoring to do whatever they possibly could to help the monster stay alive. The same thing happened with the last monster too.

Right.

The creature charged forward, its teeth pouring out scarlet and blue. She dodged the teeth, and with one swipe, cut away the head. Feral eyes watched the veins sever, the glands, both right and wrong, spilling to the floor with ease. She threw herself from the monster, catching sight of its trembling, the paralysis weaving through its system. She bit her lips, as one by one, the arms fell away, whatever glands was left from inside immediately pouring out of the body.

The ax hung beside her leg, as she stared at the beast. She could feel every vein snap back in its place, her spin slowly reshaping itself in the most painful way possible. She fought down a grimace, as she savored the blood on her tongue. She brought her palm to her nostrils; Yoshie.

There was another creature nearby, though she couldn't sense it. Its presence was muddled, and the scents were entwined with other humans. She couldn't tell where the real one was, and that alone was frustrating. Were they inside the building? If they weren't, how could they hide so easily from sight? Were they hidden beneath the shadows somewhere? Did they see Yuuki yet?

She swirled around, clutching her torso with one hand, her ax with another. Haru must be somewhere in the building too, wasn't he?

_Megumi._

She froze.

Slowly, she looked up, and found those same creatures circling above her, prowling along the glass ceiling. There was a crack, and seconds later, the glass shattered.


	80. Chapter 80

She growled, as she tried to find cover midst the falling glass. Sharp cuts grazed her skin, all the while growing shadows overtook her pale surroundings. She narrowed her eyes, running underneath the balcony, her crimson pupils making out the creatures now hungrily stalking their new feeding grounds. She gazed over their features, knowing full well what she'd see; grotesque limbs not fitting on a body, overgrown, nightmarish fangs stabbing their own gums, bluish, transparent skin revealing every single organ that was either in the wrong place, or absent altogether. She raced toward the corners, dodging yet another ambush from behind.

She scraped her hands across the floors, as she steadied herself in the swarm of monsters. There were claws reaching out for her, and she barely dodged them, her ax swinging wildly through the torrents. Limbs fell off, and stitches came undone, all the while bits of crimson and azure scattered around the floors, the hungry cries already taking precedence within the atmosphere. Blinding rage followed their white corneas, as they all aimed for the shiki.

Masao. Megumi smirked emptily, as she twisted away from the creature's arms. His greedy, painted smile gave way to a depraved primality she hadn't seen in a while, and it was through that she reflected her own movements in his dead eyes. She slashed open his chest, avoiding yet another surprise attack the monsters. Before Masao could react, she grabbed his throat and twisted it behind him, causing the bone to snap and his head to fall forward. She jammed her ax into the spine, before tearing open the skin and thrusting him away. She looked up, the many of the monsters already bored with her hopeless suitor.

She hissed in pain when yet another beast tore apart her back, the muscles coming undone. She turned and threw the ax at her perpetrator. She then rushed forward and kicked the creature off balance, all the while ripping the ax out of its forehead. She turned back briefly, then leapt out of the way, as one of the creatures dived in for a fatal blow. It ripped open its fallen comrade, and before long, it spat out one of the lungs, before reaching ferociously toward Megumi. She dodged another attack, and kept the creature in her line of sight, all the while gazing out at her feral audience with equally feral eyes.

None of them can see, or at least, none of them should be able to. Then again, that question was probably redundant; by now, most of them had already memorized Megumi's scent, and the shards on the floor made it that much harder to escape. She narrowed her eyes, shifting her gaze left from right, their wayward, drunken movements betraying their empty, silent expressions.

Nao was in front of her, that same scent so very familiar to the time when she was still human. The school librarian was directly behind Nao, just a few feet away. Mr. Tanaka was prowling to the left, and after that, scents and scents of shiki piled on her nostrils, her own mind wearing away at the nonsense of it all. They were all there, the fallen shiki, shiki Megumi didn't even want to be associated with, shiki who would forsake their own morals if only to save themselves. She clenched her teeth, as she pursued Nao.

Before the creature could react, Megumi cut her down with the ax, gutting open her already contaminated skull. She tore away grey matter, ripped apart the eyes, all the while baiting the creatures to continue their rampage. She looked up, and saw them racing toward her, their avaricious instincts taking control.

She jumped away from the scene. She clutched her ax tightly, as she sliced Mr. Tanaka in half. She took one half of his body and threw it toward the creatures, where they ripped it apart easily. Their fangs bared at Megumi, their claws gleaming through the midst of the blood-soaked night.

At once, she began her extermination.

Megumi swung her ax, blinded by the gore and falling organs, seeking out the hearts from those unfortunate bodies. One of those beasts grabbed her waist and threw her to the ground, though she remained unscathed, the ax scraping along the hardened floors. She raced forward, before beheading the monster. She covered herself with the corpse as more swarmed over her, endeavoring to stop her from moving, their saliva barely brushing past her legs. She twisted the ax away from her last victim, and covered herself from their claws. Light instantly disappeared, as they crowded over her, doing whatever they could to stop their prey from moving.

Masao. Nao. Mr. Tanaka.

She swept the ax through the crowds, smashing the skulls that remained where they were. She sliced open one of the beasts' chests, and threw the body away. She ripped open another, spending no time watching the stomach and intestines meticulously falling away from their respective owners. She chopped off the arms of another shiki, the ax undoing the stitches as brashly as it would, threads mixing in with veins cascading to the floor. She dodged their attacks, and slid through the bloodstained mess.

Her eyes grew from the black, her mind racing through the fears of the chaos. Familiar scents grazed her nostrils, her brain separating them apart, each detail more intricate than the last. Some of these shiki used were burnt, others staked. Some were alive when they died, screaming out in pain as the scientist who created them wove their organs out from their bodies, embedding it into something more suitable for a damnable fate such as this. Some were still crying out now, trying to get to their paradise without going through the pain, knowing full well what would happen should they face their families again.

And when she looked up, she saw their empty, nonexistent faces. Faces twisted in agony and loneliness; faces embedded with sorrow and guilt, as they were forced to watch blood spill time and time again; faces filled with betrayal and pain, as they were hunted down by the same villagers who had once welcomed them into their midst, those forgotten traditions and livelihood still entrenched within their minds. She could feel their trembling claws reaching out to her, screaming out at her, trying to see what'd made Megumi so special, why she was spared from the pain, when they alone, were the only ones who had to die.

She gritted her teeth, as she swung her ax, tearing apart those smiles, fulfilling their despairing thoughts with a darkness no one welcomed nor praised. They were all screaming, trying to drag her down into their depressive depths, without so much as an explanation why. Their desperation relayed by the very trembling from their fingertips. Their cold, lifeless expressions recited their realizations when they finally saw they were going to die. Their wide, terrified eyes gave way to the heartless cruelty of seeing who was killing them; friends, family, lovers. They all pleaded for their lives, asking for the chance to be forgiven, asking for a calm that never once existed within this coldhearted, desolate reality.

Their claws tore open her abdomen, their fangs cutting deep into her skin. Weight gave way to shattering pain, and yet, in the end, Megumi still raced through, tearing away at their naiveté, their confusion, their utter sociopathic pleas to be saved by the person they once ostracized. They kept reaching out to her, though they've abandoned her for their own, petty societies, as they did whatever they could to get Megumi to pay attention to the agony they've been through, the pain Haru embedded them with. They were there, trying to break free from a prison they've made for themselves, from sins that they somehow gotten themselves into. They were there, asking for Megumi, pleading for her to change them back, for her to help them go back to the way things were before the Purge, when they were all laughing and loving and killing. They were there, demanding that society to be returned to them, though somewhere, deep down, they know they'd never see their cages again.

She ripped away hearts, and tore down their expectations. She dove beneath the scarlet, traced back the veins, traversed through their bodies, only to find the same blood, the same adrenaline, the same pleasure coursing through their systems. Memories kept relaying the same, twisted smiles of when they shared their ignorance, their blissfulness never once coming back to her in their same, darkened states. They started from that same, unholy refuge, didn't they? And she was with them.

She was with them, and yet in the end, they still chose to abandon her, even in death.

The villagers ostracized her. They ostracized her, even though she came from the same village. They made fun of her, though her father and mother were on good terms with them. Secrets and whispers poured out from their lips, the pressure of their scrutinizing eyes instantly coming astray from their sorrowful dispositions. And now, they were about to join their friends, in the graves she never had. They'd hear a silence she never got to hear, the gossip never reaching their coffins from beyond the graves. Bliss carried them away from the rotten earth, and down below, there they'd stay, forever entwined with their sick, stupid traditions.

Why? Why did she have to save them? Why did she have to carry their own wills, if they were only going to repeat this cycle once again? Why did they have the chance to die, when she couldn't even begin to attain such a freedom?

Why was she the only one that had to suffer like this?

People died when they were with her; they died then, and they were still dying now. How long would it be before Yuuki meets his fate? What about Haru? Who else would she pursue, if only for them to be struck down by the very same, twisted end? Why did the villagers have peace, when Megumi was still living on like this, tormented by their memory? Why did she have to carry on? Wasn't she just a victim as they? Wasn't she the same as they, humans turned shiki? Didn't she embrace murder, just as much as they did? Wasn't she entitled to the same consequence they all were?

What made her go on like this? What drove her?! What _sin _was so terrible she had to keep her own, decadent immortality?! Were the villagers laughing at her now? Were they mocking her, even though she saved their memory? Were they making fun of her, even when they were all about to be six feet under, even when their bodies were mutilated and their pleas as pathetic as the victims she took? What were they doing?! What were they _thinking?! _

So Megumi destroyed them.

She watched their final twitches, the empty lights fading deep within their eyes. She watched their slow, miserable whimpers, their quiet, tainted whispers, as they went on about their begs. Blood slowed to a stop, and their cries fall to silence, as one by one, they vanished from their corpses. Those same, terrified faces were still there, still waiting, for their chance of redemption.

She stared down at them, the blacks slowly covering her eyes, before looking to the outside, finding no one there within this horrendous reflection. Megumi tore her gaze away, as she stumbled through the room.

Yuuki survived the Purge too, didn't he? He lived through it, and now he was with Megumi. No matter what she did, he was there, either scolding her, or rescuing her, or screaming at her about the simplest of things. He was there, when Toma found them, and he was there, when they found Toma, dead in some forgotten darkness, in a forest hidden away from normalcy. He was there, keeping watch over Kaori, keeping watch over everyone who might've gotten away from the tragedies and the pain and the misery.

She sauntered through the corpses, the creatures' icy breaths finally stopping. Shiki, corpse demons, vampires, yet nothing at all pertaining to the life those things once had, the consequences they all deserved.

A warmth that was willing to forgive anything. A light that gave her the emotions she'd supposedly forgotten. A lover who stayed with her. A companion she couldn't afford to leave behind.

Where is he?

Where's Yuuki?

* * *

Natsuno spun away from the creatures, his eyes following their rapid footsteps as they tried reaching him with their jaws. He delved underneath one of them, before tearing its arms through the abdomen. His nails pierced through whatever they could find, and he escaped once again. He narrowed his eyes, as he steadied himself from the wound on his torso. He could feel every cell regenerating, the bleeding slowly coming to a halt, as he glared at Haru. "Those things-"

Haru nodded calmly. "I made it so that you could hunt them down, no trouble at all." He pointed to his lips. "You know, if you drink from them, it'd last you for about a month. You won't have to worry about finding a good food supply. And it tastes good too."

"Like hell," he murmured, as he flung his blood toward the ground. Those things rushed forward, before moving onto the jinrou. Natsuno sped toward the crowds. He dodged another claw, flying beneath and ripping away the limbs, the cracks easily resounding throughout the still air. Slowly, he tore his arm through the creature, before dragging it in front of himself and shoving it toward the wandering monsters. Horrendous howls pierced the air, and at last, they came toward Natsuno, their nightmarish claws ready to cut him open without the slightest hesitation.

He smirked, as he ripped his arm away and leapt from the scene. The organs were slowly coming undone, the stitches gradually unraveling, yet all the same, it'd be better to kill them now then let them die on their own.

"Stop."

And just like that, they all sat.

Haru smiled, as he walked forward, carefully maneuvering away from the blood and organs. He stood a few yards away from Natsuno. "See? No trouble at all."

"I don't care about that," he said. "We aren't going with you Haru."

"You saw what Fawn did," Haru reminded darkly. "And Toma too. Let's not forget; you both've been beating yourselves up for what happened in Sotoba. Kill the villagers, and you'll be home free."

"Haru-"

"Think about it," he continued softly, the quiet edges of despair slowly embedded in his tone. "If you come with me, you won't have to deal with those kinds of things anymore. No more sadness, no more pain; all you have to do is trample it into dust."

A loud crack sounded from the back. Natsuno turned, and found yet another one of those things aimed for him, their claws reached out, doing whatever they could to try and pound him into submission. He hissed painfully, as he twisted away from the wound. He grabbed the back of its neck and threw the creature down. A second later, he lifted his arm and tore apart the torso, ignoring the its painful writhing.

Blurs past him by, all the while calm breathing voiced across his ears. Natsuno reached for the boy, when the creatures sprang from their spots, doing whatever they could to cripple him. From the corner of his eyes, he could see their wild pupils, their nightmarish cries deaf within his ears. He grimaced at their howls, and before long, he found himself lying against the floor, the force of the attack knocking out every single breath in his body.

"Come on Natsuno," Haru pressed.

The creatures surged forward. He avoided the claws, their saliva grazing his chin, as he dug his nails through the chest, tearing apart its heart. He could see the blood flooding through those poor organs, their darkened cries now screaming away their agony. He gripped the ribcage and tore it out, trying to, at the very least, remove the crimson coating his eyes.

He ignored the familiar smells, the image of Sotoba now burning before his very eyes, as he raced to Haru, to Tooru. A calm, diminished gaze stared back at the jinrou, that smile replaced by an eerie, confused frown. Those things were starting to surround him then, as they gradually came toward their master, with nary a reluctance or hesitation. They enveloped him easily, all the while dancing to the sounds of a forgotten friend not far from the delusion.

Scarlet pupils decorated black corneas, and from the roof of his mouth, he could feel fangs piercing through, the blood-soaked rage shifting through his body. Footsteps echoed throughout Natsuno's ears, as one by one, those things fell before him, their beating hearts slowly coming to their inevitable end. He was forced back again by another monster, one that looked neither like a villager, or friend, or family, or anyone else he saw from the past.

He grunted, as he carried out his rampage. He ripped open one of the creatures' chests, tore out the lungs before moving onto the next, narrowly dodging every punch, every kick they might've tried coming to. He felt the force of their claws against his skin, their bloodcurdling howl now embedded within his fiery rage.

He turned. Tooru was there. He was _right _there, shouting, screaming, begging Natsuno to stop. The jinrou narrowed his eyes, before dragging himself forward. He raced toward the boy, murderous intent so very evident in his eyes.

A gun shot rang from the room.

Natsuno stopped, allowing the bullet to hit one of those monsters. He looked up then, fists clenched. "Natsuno," Haru whispered. "I don't want to have to do this."

A sentence.

Those things were still prowling behind him. Their limbs were closing, their wounds fixing up whatever damage he'd done. Their frames trembled at Haru's voice, all the while urging Natsuno not to resist.

He gritted his teeth. Before long, he swept away from the crimson floors, and grabbed hold of the gun. Haru blinked, yet before he could say anything, Natsuno twisted the gun out of his hands. He broken Haru's wrist, a loud crack resounding through the air.

The jinrou was forced back by another monster. His back slammed against the wall, blood seeping through his lips. He opened his eyes, and saw the creature aiming for him, the rest of its companions waiting patiently for their leader to drag him back to the chaos. He grimaced, as he stumbled away from the scene. He turned around, and came beneath the creature, his arm piercing through the skin. His nails dug through the organs, and though the arms kept fighting Natsuno off, in the end he ripped away the stitches, and left them helpless.

"You know how it's like out there!"

He twisted away from those desperate creatures, steadying himself within their blood-soaked stains. A sudden, sharp pain jabbed his side, and when he looked down, he saw an oversized jaw digging through his body. Natsuno grimaced, as he ripped himself away from the mouth, beating back the creature with his fist. He closed his eyes, and steadied himself from the blood loss, all the while keeping track of the beasts circling him like so.

"Natsuno!"

Natsuno clutched his side, as he stared at the creatures surrounding him. Those same, painful expressions came through their faces, their minds a disarray of sins and punishments. He winced at their similarities, and looked down, though he kept their limbs in sight.

Slowly, he moved again, his arms hanging limply, as he tore through their bodies. Sharp fangs cut through his torso, and he could feel his limbs being torn apart by their grazes without the slightest mercies. Still, he forced himself away from their fangs, and dealt with them. Cold organs spilled to the ground, the veins instantly breaking apart as more and more nerves began moving away from their cells. Cold adrenaline in Natsuno's body ceased to circulate, and unsympathetic thoughts began latching onto logic. The arteries were still operating. The limbs were cut off, so it's not like they can move. Jaws severed, hearts broken, stomachs pouring out what was left of their acid; there was nothing left to the jury.

He wiped the blood from his mouth. He came to Haru. He could see the panic rising from the boy's chest, the insanity tearing him away from the memories altogether. It's strange; he looked so much like Tooru, the same, cowardly disposition, the same tears pouring from his face when he realized there was nothing he could do to stop the devastation. The same morals lay in front of him, trampled on and buried. Natsuno stood there, and regarded his friend evenly.

Slowly, he turned away from the corpses, his fingernails digging into his body. His dead eyes slowly came toward the boy. Haru gripped his wrist, that same lonely light shimmering beneath his corrupted face. Though the shaking stopped, in the end Haru could only shake his head. He regained his emotionless expression, his tone radiating with sadness and depression. "You still don't see, do you?"

"You're sharp."

"What?"

Natsuno took a deep breath, as he took another step closer. "That's right. After what'd happened in Sotoba, we kept beating ourselves up over it. It seemed that everyone who'd died had come back to haunt us again."

"S-see? That's why I-!"

He could feel the lingering remorse slowly shift away from his conscience, the guilt ebbing away from his heart. He could feel the sorrow unraveling from his reasoning, all the while enticed by the sole calling of a distance, soothing death knell nearby. Sounds were muddled, and the distant callings of yet another lie appeared from a nonexistent happiness.

Shimizu won't see this. How could she, when she lived in that world, in that warmth? The painstaking quiet she immersed herself in, and the stresses from the mundane world alike; in the end nothing mattered to her. She kept herself away from the sins somehow, and cleaned herself off from the punishments that awaited him and him alone. Somehow, she alone was spared from it all; how else could she move on from it all?

She never had to see the haunts, never had to suffer from the pain she went through of dying over and over again. She wasn't strung up to the trials, waiting for her own execution to be carried out. She wasn't clawing at the cages, trying to get out, trying to escape through her own, futile efforts. No; she had none of that.

It was that bliss that scared the villagers away, that ignorance that kept Tooru in the dark. And he couldn't afford to let her sanity die. He needed that beauty to remain untarnished, if only for the sake of his own, torrential madness.

He needed Shimizu.

"But you know what?" he asked darkly, as he brought himself just a few feet away from the boy. "I don't care about that."


	81. Sinfulness

_Natsuno_

I always intended on leaving Sotoba, and I didn't have any intention on getting close to anyone. However, that idea went out the window when Tooru and I became friends.

He wasn't the best student, nor was he the most ambitious, but out of everyone I'd ever met, he was the kindest. He got along with everyone, even Masao; he was so nice he even got Ristuko's attention, and she was a good deal older than he was. Whenever my parents got too annoying, or I just needed someplace to hangout, I'd always go over to Tooru's house and study. Most of the time, he'd just be playing video games, while other times, he'd sit back and study with me, though of course, whenever I looked up, I'd always see him sleeping.

I remembered this one time when Tooru told me about a dream he had. When I asked him what it was about, he simply shook his head, and said that it was a nice dream. He talked about sleeping somewhere, in some soft, green meadow, with flowers all around him. There were a few trees here and there, with tiny, blossoming buds scattered all over the air, and a stream lazily running nearby. He talked about waking up, and seeing everyone he ever cared about there, by his side. He talked about how Ritsuko kept shaking him awake with a tiny, shy blush across her cheeks, how his little sister Aoi kept asking him for help with her homework, how Tamotsu kept shoving movies into his face and asking which ones he wanted to watch, how Masao kept storming up to him and relaying his latest complaints about his life. He saw me there, in the distance, just watching the grass swaying back and forth, with a tiny smile on my face. He tried inviting me over, but then he woke up, and that was that.

He never had that dream again. No matter what he did, or how many times he tried, for some reason, Tooru couldn't go back. He asked me if I had a dream like that once, and I just scoffed and told him no. So he just smiled, and moved on with the conversation, like nothing ever happened.

It's that same smile Haru had now, within this crimson silence.

* * *

My excuses for what'd happened at Sotoba were the only things I could think about before. I clung desperately to my self-righteous justice, even if it meant burning everything around me. I drowned myself in those expectations and assumptions, because back then, I thought I was going to die, and therefore, was still allowed to make mistakes. Even if I was just a kid, I did whatever I could to fulfill those expectations, taking no regard to the people I'd be leaving behind. It worked out, because in the end, that doctor, and the rest of the villagers followed suite.

What did I want from all that? Did I want revenge? Did I want the shiki to suffer, before dragging myself along with them? Did I care about doing the right thing, even if no one else knew about it? Did I think about the people I'd be leaving behind, though they thought I was dead? Did I want them to remember, no matter how painful it'd be?

I thought I knew what I was doing, with those expectations. I thought that, at least, if I did something, the villagers could live on. They'd live peacefully somewhere else, and the killings would stop. I'd be able to preserve a society that never once looked at me with kind eyes, to save a cage I was locking myself in for the rest of time. I thought I didn't mind that, at least if the criminals were being punished for it. I remembered thinking to myself, _If the shiki just suffered, then everything would be alright._

If you ask me now to recall those thoughts, I'd tell you I've absolutely no idea what I was thinking.

* * *

When I found out Shimizu was still alive, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't angry. The first thing that ran through my mind…was why. Why was she still there? The villagers destroyed everything, didn't they? I made sure of that; I've seen the ruins with my own eyes, and I've seen the memories laid barren against the ash. The fires swept through the mountainside, and even when reporters and investigators gathered near, no one could've escaped from that.

But somehow, she did.

As much as I hated to admit it, she saved my dad and me, even if she was a stalker. She was also friends with Haru, so if anything happened to her, Haru would know. Once again, those same expectations arose; I didn't want to leave any of them alone if Shimizu was going to be with them, so I decided I wasn't going to abandon them. But I guess those fears were unfounded; I believe the only reason why Shimizu wasn't slaughtering anyone was because of Haru. Coupled with the fact the boy expected the two of us to be with him, we got swept into his illusion. I guess that's where it all began.

Shimizu and I were careful to avoid each other as much as we could, though there were some things we couldn't avoid, like looking at police files, or going along with Haru's occasional attempts at bonding. I didn't like the way Haru kept talking about Shimizu, like he was some kind of lovesick puppy who couldn't bear watching his mistress leave him. I had to bite my tongue every time he brought her up; I knew full how vehenemently he'd deny any faults she may or may not have had. Megumi this, Megumi that; he was so devoted I just wanted to throw up. Then again, Haru was just a little kid in my eyes, so I was naturally protective of him.

When I met Toma, it was the first time I realized that the tragedies that happened in Sotoba might not be completely gone. No, it was worse than that; Asaka's death was probably just an introduction to all the blood we've spilt. I realized then that those tragedies won't leave us alone, simply because we were shiki.

Yet I managed to push that thought away, and concentrated on the problem at hand. Someone was watching us because of the syndicates, and through that Shimizu and I decided to stay together. It was also because of Haru, and his own, harmless illusions. His own thoughts dictated our actions, and personally, neither of us wanted to give up our little lie. It seemed like a safe option at the time.

And it was. Shimizu had matured, though she wasn't going to follow anyone, aside from her own willful beliefs. She was always alone, never bothering to seek out anyone else's approval, never asking for anyone else's opinion, when she knew that, in the end, that opinion would be so very worthless. I'd still catch her staring at me from time to time, along with those stray blushes that grazed her face every so often. I'd hear that vain tone a few times, and occasionally, I'd see her turning away from me, denying everything that was so obviously laid out on her face for me to see. It was irritating, to say the least. But it was that maturity I managed to work with her, and soon, I was content with the arrangement.

Soon, the protectiveness I managed to manifest for Haru started fading. He was beginning to move off on his own, was starting to see the world through his own perspective, rather than rely on Shimizu and I. He was becoming more and more human with each passing day, and I was grateful. Who knows? He might've been a mere reflection of Tooru, had Shimizu not cut his life short, and perhaps Shimizu felt the same way.

Yet that brief, bittersweet time was demolished when Toma showed up at her company fashion show. After I found her that night, I took her back to the apartment complex, and did whatever I could to hold her down. For some reason, she kept struggling, kept trying to kill herself with whatever object she could grab.

From that day on, I watched her, the eerie resignation entwined within her eyes so very unlike the lively girl I'd gotten to know. I caught glimpses of tears I never thought existed, along with a certain guilt neither of us could just shake off. She kept mutilating herself, all the while whispering those apologetic words over and over again. Whenever I came in, I'd always see her trembling in some corner, hugging herself tightly against some nonexistent cold the shadows delved into. Sometimes, she'd even scream at the nothingness in front of her, at the empty space her delusions somehow tortured her with. All of a sudden, the Shimizu I knew was gone, replaced by some rag doll everyone could just toss around mercilessly.

I couldn't look away, because through her I saw my own remorse. It forced me to look back at Sotoba, at the crimes I've committed, the hearts I've broken. I thought I was doing the right thing with the villagers, with the shiki. I thought that by punishing the shiki, whether it be for hatred or compassion, everything would be alright. Everyone would receive what they deserved, and everything would be fine.

Still, somehow those past expectations rose up, like an unpleasant epiphany beneath the scrutiny of that cold, bloodless jury. I gave Shimizu the blood she needed to survive, only because I thought it was the punishment she deserved. I didn't want her to die; if she did, I'd be left alone, with the villagers glaring down at me, at the boy who ended up murdering everyone. I'd live out my shattered pride in the form of a humiliating procession I wanted to avoid. So I thought I'd be a warden to Shimizu, if only to spare ourselves from anymore pain. At the very least, those delusions could've left us alone.

After that, I decided to go investigate our mysterious stalkers on my own for a bit. During that time, Haru started to disappear from our sights, and I was getting suspicious. The very image of Tooru was beginning to crumble away too, and it was then did it occur to me, that I never knew Haru at all. He was there, in the yakuza, and he kept reappearing every time I thought about our mysterious pursuer, about where Toma could be hiding, about Kaori, about Yuki and Yume and that boy, Ken. The card I found in Haru's possession was enough for me to finally act on those suspicions, so like a fool, I took the bait. I came into Fawn Industries. I saw Yume, and finally, Fawn.

At that moment, suddenly even that darkness rejected me. I could feel the sinners all mocking me, tormenting me though their own hypocrisies haven't gone unnoticed. Shiki and human alike, all gathered behind a certain friend I thought I could trust. I didn't expect him to forgive me, and he too, probably returned the favor, but at the least, he should've known what I was doing. He should've understood why I had to do it. After all, I saw his cold body, lying there on the ground, in a sea of flames surrounding the village. I saw him there, with that stake in his heart, with that sad, pathetic, lovesick expression I saw him with whenever he was around people. I saw him with that cowardly face, though in truth I knew I was jealous of him, that he got to die before I did.

I didn't know what to do then.

When we finally got away from Fawn, it took me a while to get used to seeing Shimizu again. I still remembered the anger in her tone, when she said she hated me, and the way Tooru looked when he came next to her, if only to implicate me during the trials. I was fumbling in that darkness, trying to search for a way out. My expectations were ripped from me, and I didn't have anything to go off of, while I was still in those shadows. Meanwhile, bodies were piling up, and the monster that was after us was still out there, waiting for the day when I'd walk toward my execution, without any hesitation, any anchor that could've saved me.

I started becoming more and more dependent on her. For some reason, she was the only one who scared those villagers away. How she forgot, about her suicidal moments, about those illusions, about everything, I don't know. Still, I didn't think she'd be so carefree, especially with what'd happened back at Fawn Industries. But the fact she was amongst the jury, giving out her own testimony, was something I couldn't stand. I didn't want her up there, when she was just as guilty as I was. I didn't want her to testify against me, though in the end, I knew she'd already done so. The hate brimming from her crimson eyes, emanating Tooru's own, sad judgement against me, was a betrayal.

And yet again, despite that, somehow, Shimizu still managed to weave her way through the scarlet. She dragged me into her fashion career, no matter how many times I kept refusing. The whole thing had gotten so drone, so recurring, but all the same, it took my mind off my sanity for a while. Dealing with critics, spoiled models, idols, orders; it all seemed normal, in my eyes. We kept feeding, but we didn't have to kill anyone. We lived out our lives however we would, all the while staying together, fending off against our enemies. For a while, I was content.

But even that, however, was ripped away the moment Haru came back into our lives. At that point, I knew Haru had something to do with everything that'd happened with Fawn. And yet, somehow, like Shimizu, he still managed to go on with his life, acting like nothing was wrong, laughing like he usually was, whether it be about the latest gossip, or the newest critic who praised Shimizu for her designs. He was there, in the light, just acting as he normally would. He was so much like the friend I lost, that, at that some time later, I wondered if I was the crazy one.

So I kept myself away from him. I focused on Shimizu and the yakuza, all the while pouring my own resources into hunting Toma down. Shimizu didn't have the police anymore, and though the criminal underworld afforded us concoctions we wouldn't have gotten anywhere else, for the most part, Japan's politicians were focused more on the police force. Without the cops, bits of relevant information came to us in the most ridiculous of ways, scattered remnants that, half the time, I wouldn't know what to do with.

And strangely, neither did Shimizu.

* * *

I wanted Shimizu to cling to her humanity, however worthless her efforts were. I didn't care what she had to say, or what her thoughts were on the matter, of even if she considered herself human anymore. I already knew I couldn't do it, knowing full well that Tooru, along with the other villagers, have all come back to haunt me. She's the only one who'd remained untarnished, the only one who refused to go along with those chaotic, sickening emotions society forced upon the both of us. She was the only one who could make it out unscathed, though we were both spoiled, and our illusions blinded us to reality. I wanted her to keep pursuing that innocence, so much so I was willing to sacrifice my own.

I guess that's the reason why I talked Kaori into coming to visit her. Shimizu did save her after all, though she's told me she hated the girl time and time again. But whenever we did talk about Kaori, I always saw some nostalgic light in her eyes, a melancholy I couldn't help but wonder about for days on end. I remembered her talking about leaving the village, but I didn't think she'd miss them that badly. It's also the reason why I let Haru come so near her, even if he was a bit psychotic. I pushed away my misery, and my hesitation, and my pain, and let those two into Shimizu's life, if only for her to remember the humanity I wasn't willing to have.

And in doing so, Shimizu became a lifeboat for me. Whatever loneliness I kept she didn't have, the solitude never once bothering to touch her. Despite everything Tooru forced on me, I still moved on, because of her. It didn't matter if she started the Purge, didn't matter if she forced all the villagers down this spiral of madness, didn't matter if she pushed everyone to kill, even if they objected it at first. Because in the end, it was their decisions. Tatsumi, the Kirishikis, their own wills; it seemed a bit harsh, to blame it all on one person.

* * *

Haru stood there, shouting at me, trying to convince me to go come to Sotoba with him. He kept talking about judgement on the villagers, about living out our lives as who we are, as shiki. He screamed about how Shimizu and I would be so much happier there, in Sotoba, with no one bothering us, no one daring to cross us. He kept crying out at how much better off we'd be, even if red entwined with blue and grey, kept reminiscing on our times together, when it was just the three of us, when all we did was just sit back and watch the world go by around us, our own lies swirling around us so easily.

I remembered that dream Tooru told me, about that meadow. I remembered his words, how desperate he was trying to get that dream back.

I remembered it, and I laughed.

I laughed while I danced in the villagers' blood, covered with false tears that might as well have disgusted even the twisted moonlight from above. My eyes were filled with disgust, and my nails dragged open organs, cut away tissues, watching everything comes to a slow halt, the nightmarish creatures no longer plaguing me. Glass shards wore away from me, as I took out my rage on the very beings that came to the trials.

That meadow was nothing more than a delusion. There were no family or friends, nothing at all, but a corpselike ballroom just waiting for Shimizu and I to come, and dance. Grass would be replaced by thorns and thistles, and those tiny, infant blossoms little more than withered flowers along the shores of insanity. Icy madness would cloud the skies, all the while giving rise to silhouettes neither of us knew had existed from the moment we stepped foot out of the village. Shadows would claw out of their graves, if only to find us all, and hunt us down, again and again and again. Screams would replace laughter, annoyance with fear, comfort with suffering. I couldn't help but ask myself then, was that the dream Tooru had? Was that the dream he carried on, despite the fact he knew what would happen to us all? Was he trying to drag us down with him?

I saw Shimizu, somewhere there. I saw her crying, screaming, begging to be saved, only for her pleas to fall on deaf ears. I saw her pale skin shimmering in the darkness, filled with bruises and grotesque wounds I didn't think I'd see her with. I saw her own, beating heart, slowing to a stop, as the villagers gathered near, trying to take away from her what little she had left. I saw her lying there, in those meadows, with Tooru standing over her, smirking at the suffering he managed to cause, chuckling at the anguish that accompanied her immortal demise. I saw her cowering, with Haru watching lustfully from the shadows, taking in his own illusions and forcing them into a lie that never had the right to exist.

That humanity was slipping away from her.

I tore away at the beasts, and came after Haru, after Tooru. I didn't care who saw. I didn't care if I had to lie to Shimizu about what'd happened to him. I didn't care if I had to lie to her for the rest of my life; I didn't want him anywhere near her. I didn't want Tooru to give her the same judgement he had me. There's no way I'd ever allow that.

_He wasn't broken._

Haru narrowly avoided it. I could hear bullets ringing aloud in my ear, his very gaze boring my back. I blink, before turning around, fangs bared. I grit my teeth, and I aim again. My claws reach his throat, and I slam him down.

_He was always friendly, someone you could easily open up to._

"A-ah!" the boy choked. I force the gun out of his grip, and glower at him.

_Whenever you were in trouble, you could always count on him to be there, no matter how annoyed or upset you are. _

I pointed the barrel at Haru.

_He cared about his friends and family. _

Haru's eyes widened fearfully. "N-Natsuno!" He screamed, trying to claw his way out of my grip.

_He sounds nice. _

I stopped.

Why?

_Why am I hearing this now?_

And before I knew it, I felt a sharp, searing pain burn my side. I was forced away from Haru, the red clouding my vision. A feral howl resonated throughout the air, bombarding my ears with its devilish agony. Suddenly, Haru disappeared beneath me.

A sickening crack sounded from behind my back, with the black enveloping me.


	82. Chapter 82

Megumi stumbled across the corridors, dragging the now heavy ax behind her. Blood seeped from her arm, the stubborn bruises refusing to disappear with each ache they carried. Her hardened footsteps resounding throughout the halls, her legs shaking more and more violently with each past second. She grimaced at every step she took, the weight of her own body dragging her down.

Blackness shrouded her eyes, her unreadable expression grazing through the maroon floors. The wounds weren't closing, and as of this point, her body was still breaking down. She could feel her fangs protruding from the roof of her mouth, the sharp edges licking away whatever blood was left on her tongue. Her fingernails clawed against the walls, all the while trying to maintain her balance.

She clung to her hazy vision, ignoring the shadow like tendrils shaping behind her. She shut her eyes, and shook her head, as she bit the inside of her lips. Wet things fell down her cheeks as she kept on, the ax now slipping from her grasp. She clenched her teeth, and continued, her pale skin shimmering within the darkness.

Yuuki's cornered Haru.

What's he going to do?

She pushed herself on. Haru was down there now, with him. She could feel his trembling, his desperation resonating through the wintry air. She could feel his tiny, painful gasps, as he crawled away from his assailant, all the while trying to sort out his chaotic thoughts. Delusions came upon the boy so easily, his own, worthless lies now shattered before his eyes. Cold sweat dripped across of his forehead, as he kept on with his own mind numbing sensations, drowning himself in whatever he could, if only for a little more time with that own, sadistic heaven of his.

She clutched her fists. She was about to take another step, when she stumbled. She caught herself before she fell, all the while listening to the vibrations noisily crying from down the hallways, along with inhuman screams she knew all too well.

It was the villagers.

And Yuuki was there with them.

* * *

Haru bit back an agonizing scream. Writhing limbs came from the corner of his eyes, all the while red splattered across his vision. His arms flailed past him, the painful shrieks sounded from just a few feet in front of him. Blurs of lights and snow flew past him, the haughty wind overtaking him without the slightest mercies. Familiar cracks relayed throughout his eardrums, the searing pain accompanying those sounds almost causing him to lose conscious. Still, he managed to force himself awake, if only to experience all the sensations he pushed his body through.

He landed down the stairs with a hard thud, his entire arm now cursing at the force. He hissed sharply, all the while peering through the bloodstains, making out the bullet shells scattered nearby. He clenched his teeth, his own blond hair clinging to the cold sweat, as he caught sight of Sotoba's shiki lying nearby, their empty gazes staring back at him in their own, haunting way. He turned away then.

Another crack, another sting. He gasped breathlessly, but still, he forced himself to move. Where was it? Where was his gun? If he doesn't have it, then Natsuno would…

Natsuno would…

Haru steadied himself, the bloodless moonlight clouding his vision so eagerly. He stumbled through the scarlet, all the while endeavoring to maintain himself through pain and nausea. Those irritating jabs swept across his arms, the bruises on his neck vividly illustrated through the somewhat clean floors. The scent of iron splattered across his nostrils, and as he wandered through the hazy darkness, his desperation slowly climbing higher and higher with each moment, he couldn't help but think back on the jinrou's eerie smiles, his insidious laughter, the way his own, feral movements matched neither the friend Haru knew, or the companion Kaori reminisced fondly of.

He coughed up more blood, before wiping away the crimson from his lips. Slowly, he took one step, and then another, and then another, before, once again, falling to the floor. He bit back another scream, as his eyes fell softly to his left leg, which was bending the wrong way.

He grimaced at the revelation, his hands painfully clutching the metal floors at the pain. His nails dug into the ground, as he tried crawling past the bodies, trying to search for his friends, all the while brushing aside the open wounds riddled along his torso. His fists clenched, and he had to stop again, his lungs heavily drinking in the air pouring out from his lips. He grabbed his waist, the blood seeping through his coat as he attempted to stop once again, trying to stop the bleeding. He drew in a sharp breath, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Tooru again.

No matter what Haru did, in the end that's who they always saw. Even if Haru smashed those memories to pieces, destroyed those moments, ruined their very image of him, i or even if he burned them to dust, in the end they'd always come crawling back to him, Natsuno more than anyone else. Tooru was someone Haru couldn't replace, even when he replaced those memories.

Why couldn't he do it?

Why couldn't they just let go?

He looked up, and caught sight of a few of those creatures still prowling around, fumbling their way through the blindness he gave them. He squinted, and saw those familiar wounds decorated across their arms, along with the quiet rage seething throughout their bodies. Natsuno was probably still up there with them. Even if it was by accident, somehow, Haru managed to escape, leaving the shiki to deal with the remnants of the monsters. He grunted then, as he struggled to sit up. It's fine; as long as they bring him down, at the very least, they could bring him back to Sotoba. Megumi might be a bit harder, but as of this point, he couldn't stop now. Just one or two setbacks, but everything would be fine.

Right?

Haru sat up, and closed his eyes, clutching his waist with his good arm. Snow blew through the windows, and along with it, the distant sounds of sirens. Bodily fluids hardened along with the breeze, the carcasses surrounding him still bleeding until finally, the last drop had fled. Slow cracks made their way up his arm, and as he sat there, taking in all the pain, he couldn't help but notice the nightmares swirling around him, the bodies piling up before his very eyes.

Was this it?

Was that the justice he'd been looking for?

Gruesome sounds resounded from the top. Haru opened his eyes again, only to find the same organs splattering to the floor menacingly, the dangling things softly floating away in a sea of misery and loss. One by one their bones fell, their eyes slowly giving out the light from their pupils. Jaws snapped, veins fled, arteries torn askew, only to lie there, in that same, forgotten grave. Their corpses collapsed, giving way to the tombstones near Haru.

He sat back, and stared at them, at those funerals, at the procession of ghosts dancing to the tunes of some forlorn melody. Distant chimes rang through the air, the traffic coming across the dark, azure air. Morbid lusts come through the quiet, the sins calling Haru out for their compensation, for their pay when he used them for his own means. They laughed at him at the most unsightly way, all the while dragging up his past remorse, if only to force him back to the depths of depravity.

And yet, he relaxed.

His muscles released the tension, and whatever apprehension he had for himself slowly gave way to resignation. The fact that he was there, still mesmerized, became little more than an illusion waiting to be dreamt away.

So that's it then.

That's it.

Was there any other way he could've saved them, Natsuno and Megumi? Did they even need saving to begin with? Were there any illusions he was desperate to dispel, any lies he had to replace with his own, if only for him to gain a place in their eyes, however sickening those lies were?

Did it even matter anymore?

Something wet came down his cheek, a wet, bright thing, that showed off his final claims to sanity. He remembered a nameless friend he'd never get to see again. He remembered two companions he couldn't even reach, couldn't talk to without knowing the judgement they'd place on him. He could reminisce the times he felt lonely, and scared, and sad, with only their silence to take as comfort.

But still, they were all so fun to be around.

And he didn't want it to end, if only for the fact he might've even spared himself from the pain of the silence, of the coldness. He didn't want to be left out there, only to be forgotten by the countless lives this world so carefully cradled. He didn't want to be cast out, by both hell and heaven and earth, only to reside in some cage where he could watch everyone lazily drift through their lives, taking everything for granted, and leaving nothing in return.

His mind came back to the villagers then, to Tooru. He saw through his creatures' blank reflections. It's as if a ghost was staring back at him, at an empty shell only the merciless could ever see through. There he was, in their eyes, looking back at the quiet, and the pain, and the sadness; the crowds of bodies he managed to use, the countless names he's marred, the stories he's ripped apart and torn away, were all there. Whether they be from conversations, or arguments, or diary entries, in the end it was all still the same.

He stared at those eyes for a while. He stared at them, as the pendulum ticked onwards, paying no heed to the suffering within the boy's own heart. He tried taking another breath, only for him to stop, the shallow air slowly weaving its way through his lungs. He held himself for a while, before coming back to their soulless mirrors.

Familiar footsteps closed in on him then. Haru couldn't help but smile then, as he grasped those precious, fragile thoughts, and tore them apart, bit by bit. He felt just like that tiny, insignificant boy, back when he was first wandering the Suicide Forest. He felt like the sad, little puppy who kept following his masters around, waiting patiently for them to return, even if they stayed away for days on end. He felt like the coward who hid behind a sea of corpses, if only for him to slip underneath his own expectations.

Will he fade now? Will he disappear beneath the obscurity, underneath the cover of his lies and shame, while running away from a ghost that'd finally come for him? Could he appease his humiliation, whatever was left of his broken pride now coated with embarrassment and pitiful pleas? Could he just sit where he was, and wait for everything to come crashing down on him at once?

And what of his beloved shiki? Was he asking for empathy? Was he begging for them to understand, even if they chose not to, even if they hated him for the rest of their lives?

What'd he want from them, really?

Even from here, he could tell where Natsuno was. He could imagine the jinrou's healing scars, the cracks on his forehead slowly sealing up at the seams. Veins would snap back into place, as they usually would and blood ceased to flow, though bruises still lingered. Darkness would fill Natsuno's eyes, with that same, feral red glowering at the boy. There he was, that same, fearsome boy he met from the cafe, the same creature that caught the eyes of so many predators.

All of Haru's trembling ceased.

Haru's lips parted, but before he knew it, the words slipped away from him. "If you're gonna do it, then do it."

No answer.

Slowly, Haru wiped the last of the blood away. He couldn't help but stare down at that tiny little drop. Already it was dried, the glimpses of light quickly evaporating from his vision.

"…Natsuno…?"

"Why?"

Haru's lips parted slightly, before easing themselves into a tiny, content smile. "I already told you why."

"Don't give me that crap! Justice?!"

The silence fell between the two so easily, the brokenness within the atmosphere slowly tearing itself away bit by bit. "…Yeah," Haru said finally, the softness scattered through the harsh winds.

_"__What the hell kind of excuse is that?!"_

Huh, so even that was worthless…

"Haru!"

Haru pierced through his fatigue, and bushed aside the pain, in favor of a memory that was now baring its fangs at him. "…Why else… would I even bother?"

Slowly, he started to stand, though his weight already began giving out under him. His leg screamed, all the while caving into the pressures surrounding his failing body. His heartbeat pounded against his ears, and his cold, clammy skin shrouded him with that same, dreadful weeping the snow bestowed. Yet, all the same, he still stood there, that same, kind smile nestled against his face.

"Honestly…" he said, his lungs hungrily groping for the air, the words filling his mind with their own, worthless tension. His eyes were fixed to the floor, not even bothering to seek out Natsuno's face. "…I don't like him. I don't like Tooru, or anyone in Sotoba. After…after what they did-"

"You're an idiot! You hear me?! A _fucking _idiot-!"

"Still…" Haru continued, swaying from his misstep. It's funny; back then, he would've balked at the insult. He would've laughed a laugh that was supposed to come after, the supposed joke taking root into his throat like an unraveling secret. "…It doesn't matter…"

Natsuno was saying something.

"…Even if you're…both… still killers…"

He coughed again, and before he knew it, he started to fall. But he refused to submit; not now, not when Natsuno was here, right in front of him. This was bad; Haru couldn't even see him now.

He smiled then, as he took one step forward. Little by little, those chaotic emotions were all vanishing, leaving Haru with an empty calm he hadn't felt in a while.

"…I really like you both…" Haru heaved, not even bothering to wince at the loud crack resounding across his body.

Another step, another breath. "…I don't care…if either of you are just…illusions I made up."

"…you're…back…wait…!"

"…or imaginations my despair came up with…"

"…if…! …Dying?!"

Haru drew another painful breath, and laughed. "I…I want you…both you and Megumi to be...innocent. I didn't…think that it'd have to be…"

"….killed…friend…"

"It'd be nice," he said, "if you both came back to Sotoba."

"…couldn't…!"

"Right." Haru counted the wild silhouettes surrounding him, the distant bells ringing so vibrantly from behind. The police would be here soon, wouldn't they?

"I…I really did think…you'd be happier…that way..."

Haru's voice falters. He collapsed then, the coldness giving way beneath him.


	83. Chapter 83

Natsuno stared down at Haru, his empty eyes reflecting back what little moonlight the skies had to give. His bangs swept out from his face, the soft snowflakes brushing through his thick, dark strands. Quiet raced across the room, as one by one, the creatures all stopped moving, his own assailants given over to their emotional, yet shallow graves. Blood covered every inch of the metallic floors, and glass shards pierced remnants of organs, limbs, and bone. Familiar faces peered through horrific expressions, the lengths of their sanity flying away within every past second. Redness surrounded white corneas, the pressure slowly building inside their skulls, and with each corpse accounted for, yet another came through with their gruesome injuries.

Slowly, Natsuno began walking toward the boy, when he fell, his knees hitting the hard ground. Stabs coursed through his legs, the irritating pain, once again, erupting from his torso. He tried getting up, but he failed. Natsuno narrowed his eyes, his frustrated gaze fixated toward the floor. He remained there for a while, before closing his eyes, and looking around.

Nearly half his motor nerves were severed, a testament of the cruelty from the beasts around him. It'd be a while before he could even _stand, _let alone move, and for some reason, his wounds weren't healing. But it was no surprise; after all, these were shiki he was dealing with, and the fact he hadn't fed for the last week was also troublesome.

He grimaced at the revelation, and curled his fist. He could hear the sirens right now, making their way toward the supposedly serene festival. Soon, people will gather, and once again, the show will turn into some idiotic commemoration. Idols, models, critics; they'd all come, if only to poke fun at the tragedy that seemed to replay itself over and over again. They'd devour every single detail leaked to the press, and they'd set up their own, stupid expectations again. Still, he couldn't help but look down at Haru with a tight frown.

"You're an idiot," he repeated emotionlessly.

No answer.

"You were annoying."

Still, nothing.

Natsuno turned his gaze toward Haru. He was so different from before, so pale and lifeless, so very unlike the shy, timid boy he saw long before. His expression wasn't as candid as before, and though he was still so very emotional, in the end, he managed to mature, in the most sickening way possible. His fingers were coated in scarlet, and his once bright, warm eyes were now shrouded by a darkening steel, with an informal callousness coating his pupils. It's strange; Haru looked just like Tooru, when he died. It was as if any minute now, Haru would rise up, and become that same, self-loathing creature Tooru had. The situation was so similar Natsuno could've just laughed.

But he couldn't.

_You don't understand! _The words echoed through Natsuno's mind, minutes after the words covering those sins with regrets, mistakes, anything else he even bothered to remember. He took a deep breath, and stare Haru down. "You were like some lovesick puppy. You kept following Shimizu around everywhere, thinking she might return your feelings someday."

_You're sick! What happened back then has nothing to do with you!_

"You labeled me too. You know, the only reason why I talked with you…was because you reminded me of someone I knew."

_Even if you did this…you aren't even going to think, are you?! Dying at the hands of some other humiliation! Why?! You really want to suffer that badly?!_

"You put us both on broken pedestals. Were you really that dependent?"

At an instant, he saw Tooru, standing just behind Haru.

Natsuno couldn't make out anything in his former friend's expression. He couldn't see through those black eyes, the sorrowful smile etched into his face. It seemed that, even as the wind grew and ebbed within the makeshift graves around him, he stood steadfast to it all. Time never slipped from him, and eternity didn't appear to want to have anything to do with him. There was no one behind him, no judge, no jury, none at all, save that one, vulnerable shadow, laying entwined within the ground.

He cast away whatever was left of those pointless words then, from just a few moments ago. "Innocent, huh? Haru, I've killed someone. A friend."

Snow white blended with light azure, the bloody mirrors looking back at the ghost. Glass shards lay within his vicinity, and the wicked moonlight glanced back on him without the slightest hesitation. Still graves were settled next to him, and bit by bit, the gore faded to nothing, the silence shrouding it with whatever secrets it deemed necessary to carry. Silhouettes danced on the floor, the glass outside gradually manifesting the shadows.

Natsuno came back down to Haru then, his bloodless face seeped in crimson. "Tooru…was my best friend. I killed him…because I didn't know what else to do. I hated Tooru for killing me, even though I let him feed off me. And I hated the shiki for what they did to the village, the same village I wanted to get out of, the same village I ignored. And…I betrayed Shimizu, the same person that helped me…"

Natsuno paused, reminiscing the countless emotions he's felt, ever since he's risen up. From handing Tooru his death sentence, to giving Dr. Ozaki the information he needed to exterminate the shiki, to discovering Shimizu still here, still alive, even after everything Natsuno's sacrificed, to seeing Haru, a cold reminder of what he did back then, to everyone.

"I teamed up with a village doctor to destroy the shiki. I told him the best places to attack, and the best way to instigate the massacres. I killed some of the shiki too; strong ones, weak ones, ones that practically begged, and screamed for mercy."

He smirked emptily. "Now that I think about it, that's not all. When I came to Tokyo, I joined Fawn through one of the syndicates. I killed a nurse there, in that hospital. He was a good nurse, from what Kaori tells me. My dad was there, if it wasn't for that nurse, he would've died.

"I was also the one who killed that police officer, Saito. Toma had the police under his control, and since the man wouldn't listen…to anything, I killed him. I tried to kill Kaori too."

His eyes flickered toward the windows; crowds were gathering, and reporters were starting to swarm around the entrance, clawing their way through barricade of police officers. He could see every curious face there, every panicked expression as they tried prying whatever information they could from the cops. They were all standing fighting off their dull, dull desperation, endeavoring to get away from their own, boring lives. He saw the interest, practically no genuine sorrow entwined in their presences.

He stared out at them. "I sold out my best friend, and I killed everyone else. Tell me, am I disgusting yet? Do I really seem that innocent to you? Haru?"

Tooru?

That appellation stood there, with that same, sad smile on his face. His bangs swept over his eyes, an unreadable atmosphere enveloping him meticulously. He wasn't as pale as he used to be, and from a distance, Natsuno could even see the calm radiating from his relaxed demeanor. His hand came up, and pushed his blond hair from his face, revealing those warm, caramel orbs Natsuno had remembered so long ago.

Then, with that nostalgic voice, Tooru said, _You're the idiot. _

He caught sight of a singly, stray pink strand in the distance, and a familiar shadow he couldn't help but welcome. He said something, but he couldn't remember what.

Natsuno lost consciousness after that.


	84. Chapter 84

Her dark eyes took in the brown wallpaper staring back at her in the background. An ornate, mahogany table was settled to the front of the bed, housing tiny, decaying books from long ago. A tiny TV was mounted on top a dresser, and beside it, a tiny plant, dying plant, whose unborn buds had just fallen to the ground. From the corner of those eyes, a simple, white curtain swayed along a nonexistent breeze, the small, delicate patterns brushing aside their inquisitive nature. Behind those curtains was a heavy, gray fabric that only barely blocked out the fading light, though already she could make out seeps of sunlight delicately coming through. A bloody ax was nestled near the door, the dark crimson seeping through the cracks on the handle.

Right behind her was a bed, filled with white, pristine sheets, and a thin blanket that had did nothing to stop the cold. Pillows upon pillows were piled upon the frame, the warm oak reflecting back at her with a nostalgic glow. Yet above it all, was Yuuki.

His eyes gave no hint to waking. His bloodless face kept gazing back at Megumi with its haunting beauty, the graceless elegance entwining with his lifeless body. Amethyst bangs splayed themselves along his cold forehead, and dark shadows embedded within his expression. Ugly scars adorned his throat, all of which looked like a disgusting choker that needed to be taken off. Tiny blood splatters marked the sheets, and torn seams of cloth lay scattered upon the neat floor.

Megumi closed her eyes, the weariness dragging her own body through the fatigue. She'd already changed out of her bloody clothes, and had now donned her purple dress. She wore black socks underneath it, and her usual ponytails were down. Crimson overtook black, and the darkness faded from her corneas, as she reminisced the once gracious outfit she'd made, now stuffed in some bag. Still, it wasn't like she wanted to wear it; it was so unusual, and to be honest, the more she thought about it, the more she knew it didn't suite her. It was odd, in a rather normal way.

She opened her pupils. Slowly, she came to the bed. She sat down at the edge of Yuuki's side, her eyes fixated on the walls.

By the time she came to Haru and Yuuki, limbs were torn asunder, and blood filled the floors, the corpses enveloped within the puddles like tiny anchors, just aimlessly floating around. They were both unconscious, clinging desperately to their own lives, if only through their instincts. She remembered hearing the blaring sirens sounding through the air, as well as both police officers and groundskeepers trying to force their way into the building. An ambulance was there too, attempting to calm the rioting crowds while endeavoring to see just what madness had taken place in Sapporo. Screams of "monsters" and "murder" resounded through the atmosphere, with the very critics she wanted to impress now staring at the horror which awaited them. Even when their unwitting audience was standing so far away, Megumi knew they could make out the gore inside the building.

Haru was in no condition to leave. He was barely still alive, but since the paramedics were there, Megumi had no reason to worry. Besides, she knew full well Haru wouldn't tell anyone what he'd seen, what'd happened. No one would believe him, and even if they did, he'd implicate himself as well. Also, since he kept his tracks hidden, it wasn't likely he was going to have a criminal record. Police won't dare interrogate him, what with the scenes they've seen, and though the reporters are going to be a hassle, they too will be kept away. Haru will be surrounded by nurses and doctors alike, and with every other adult keeping careful watch over him, it'd be difficult for him to move anywhere, even if Toma was with him.

So Megumi took Yuuki, and ran. Right now, they were in a small motel in Hakodate. They could only stay for, at most, two days, before they'd to leave again, and with the speed they're going at, it'll take them around a week to reach Omotesando. Yuuki being comatose was slowing them down, but it wasn't a huge handicap. He's going to have to wake up eventually. Meanwhile, her wounds were closing up, since she managed to feed along the way, but it still hurt whenever she moved.

But it didn't matter; they practically had all the time in the world to get back to Tokyo. A small, vulnerable frown tugged against her lips. She gripped her hands tightly, the resignation on her face so easily giving way to silent, devastating realizations.

Yuuki… worked with the villagers.

He worked with the villagers to slaughter the shiki.

What would've happened, had he not to risen up? Would she still be in Sotoba, carrying on with her same old self, murdering every human she saw, without the slightest bit of hesitation? Would she still follow the Kirishikis? Would she be put into the big city unit, kidnapping people until she managed to move up the ranks once again?

Yet the moment Yuuki rose up, that very prospect brutally fell before her eyes.

She bit her lip. Agonizing feelings had come back to her, from when the village burned to the ground, when its inhabitants attacked Sapporo. Nao, Masao, Tooru, Mr. Tanaka, the comrades she couldn't bring herself to remember, the monsters she used to get where she was now; she could remember their faces in her mind, their agonizing screams piercing her eardrums with everything they could possibly have entwined. Memories bubbled up from the darkest corners of her heart, and through that she could catch glimpses of their personalities, of when they were human, when they were shiki.

Nao, who was so obsessed with being with her family she dragged them all to early graves; Masao, who only wanted the sick, pathetic fame he clung to when he was still a child, became blinded by his own vanity, and ended up being slaughtered by the fans he was trying to reclaim; Tooru, who was blinded by the very morals he managed to forsaken, all the while combatting a bloodlust he knew he couldn't rid himself of; Mr. Tanaka, who easily turned his back on his family with a pitiful excuse Megumi managed to implant into his mind.

And what of the Kirishikis? Initially, Megumi worshipped them. She believed in their elegance, a fresh, innovative change to an unchanging village. And yet, they were still so very human. Self-righteousness, a hierarchy in which the killings were organized…it was all so pathetic. There wasn't anything that differentiated them from the syndicates in Tokyo. Tatsumi and Yoshi were just unwitting pawns, a means to an end in obtaining a sanctuary where shiki could live happily, where humans would be used as cattle, where everyone plastered on their own, painted smiles, and dreamed of their loved ones, all the while slaughtering those loved ones. They lived in an illusion, an unrealistic ideal where they could paint the world in black and red, without a single regard to the people they'd leave behind.

But what was even more sickening were the villagers, from whom the shiki had risen from. She could practically recall the day when Yoshie told them about the humans finding out, about how dangerous it was to go off on their own. She remembered the panic in her own heart, the anxiousness she had when she was trying to determine whether or not to run away.

All aspects of her humanity disappeared at that moment, when that same humanity came back to haunt her. She remembered how hard she cried when they found her, how loud she cursed when she realized she was going to die, how frustrated she was when they hammered that stake near her heart. She remembered the fires licking her skin, as well as the victorious cries the villagers' had when they saw that almost all the shiki had died.

And Yuuki helped them.

_Yuuki helped them._

She clutched her hands. She was so sure that if Yuuki had been there, he might've helped Megumi and the others escape. After all, he wasn't human anymore, right? Morals, punishments consequences; none of that mattered when everyone lauded other tempting sins. The lines between right and wrong were so ambiguous, so skewed, that she didn't think they'd mattered. In death, she thought she could've done whatever she wanted to; anyone else's opinions were just chains to keep her locked in a society where prying eyes surrounded her, where nightmares took form within human skin. At the very least, she thought Yuuki would've understood that.

But he didn't.

Why?

She stared out at the empty space in front of her. By now, the sunlight had all but faded in the black, the golden lanterns outside inviting her out into the cold. Soft snowflakes danced within the wind, and already she could make out cries of laughter and anger, as people slipped upon the ice. Joyous voices entwined within the atmosphere. She listened to them, and she closed her eyes.

Was Yuuki really that eager to die? Did he want to be accepted by the humans? He knew Tooru was one of them, right? He should've known that his friend wanted to live, even if he had to become a monster to do it. What'd Yuuki see in the shiki back then, that made him want to kill them so bad? What was it that made him want to burn everything to the ground, to massacre former villagers and creatures? What was it? What made him like that?

Sotoba.

Her bangs fell across her eyes, as her own, scarlet gaze took in the melancholic darkness enveloped around her. That hellhole of a village always forced its way into her mind, and in the most sickening of ways. No matter what she did, the memories kept finding her. Whether it be from guilt, or remorse, or even regret, in the end, Megumi couldn't keep those backwoods away from her. It didn't matter how many tears she cried, or how many times she tried blocking out the pain of death; those villagers still found her, still tried to drag her back to a grave she wasn't at all prepared for. She could hear their gossips, their rumors slowly floating around her like an unwelcome laugh that made her cringe. Even if she left them alone, they'd still come after her, the senselessness so very evident in their eyes.

She could practically see them there now, staring Yuuki down, forcing him to follow emotions and rules, things that spelled out the prejudice residing in their hearts. She could see their faces leering around him, trying to give him a sentence he didn't even deserve. Trials kept swirling around him, and accusations came around him, embedded in a crimson Megumi thought he'd left behind. And all the while, he stood there, a mindless puppet in the midst of their own moralities.

What'd she have to do? What'd she have to say, if only for the villagers to spare Yuuki from his fate? Would they listen? The shiki might not have, but…

But…

An empty smile decorated her face then. No, of course not; the humans murdered their own, for the sake of some traditions that were all outdated. They had no problems killing Megumi and the rest; she even pleaded for her own life and they still managed to stake her, so what chance would Yuuki have against them? What, she asked, when the only thing she saw were smiles upon smiles of eerie pride, splattered upon a sea of unpleasant filth practically no one would understand?

Tiny fingertips reached behind her collarbone. Slowly, two hands wrapped around her throat, gently leading her away from the edge. From the corner of her eyes, she could make out Yuuki's mindless silhouette, steadily pulling her away from the darkness she knew too well. No familiar light came within his eyes, with nary a conscious thought or emotion crossing over his face. Two white, gleaming fangs decorated the sides of his mouth, and as he pulled her toward him, his cold skin wrapped around her own throat. He stroked her collarbone delicately, all the while her own hands stayed numbly to her side.

She stared at him for a bit, the resignation slowly evaporating from her system. He wasn't awake; just the bloodlust guiding him. Another hour or so, then she'd leave.

His lips brushed against her neck. Slowly, Megumi's hands came to the side of his head, her fingers entwined within those dark, purple strands, and pressed her forehead against his. He seemed so fragile now, nothing at all like the cool, mysterious transfer student she'd always stalk. Though his skin was frozen, she could still feel a bit of warmth radiating from it, the strangeness of it all toying within the depths of her memory.

He was so human, compared to everyone else.

Slowly, she lifted his head up, guiding his fangs to the side of her pulse. "Yuuki," she called out then, her voice shattering the piercing silence.

Gradually, his fingers left her throat. His hands came upon her wrists, as he pulled her closer. Blood still seeped through his clothes, and once again, he paused, trying to orient himself from the unsteady atmosphere. "It hurts, doesn't it?" she whispered quietly. "Sotoba got what it deserved, and yet here they are, still haunting you."

She could feel his fangs pierce her skin. One hand came away from her wrist, planting itself behind her head to draw her in. "They're spoiled," she murmured. "They don't know how to cope with change, so they thought they'd try to preserve those stupid traditions. They thought that if they wiped us out, change would never come, and they could always stay like that, right? And to think, they even managed to drag you into it.

"How guilty did they make you feel? What kinds of tricks did they use to get you to go along with them?" she continued, as she pressed herself against him. "Was it because of Tooru?"

She remained silent for a while, before smirking depressively. "No; you knew Tooru was one of us. You knew how much he wanted to live; that's why you let him kill you, wasn't it? If it wasn't for Tatsumi, maybe things wouldn't have gotten out of hand like that. And the Kirishikis…if they hadn't turned so many villagers, then maybe this mess wouldn't have even happened. We'd still be in the village, getting ready for the exams, talking about leaving, being the spoiled brats we were…"

Her voice trailed. Was it really that simple? Was it that easy to come up with a solution? Would the villagers accept it? Would the shiki?

No, they wouldn't. In the end, human nature still dominated. Shiki were once humans, so it was only natural for them to take up the same selfishness and arrogance their weaker counterparts held so dearly. Everything was organized into an elite hierarchy, adults and children. The adults directed their offspring to murder, and thus, crimson would shed, showering everyone with food necessary for survival. Cattle, pigs, cows; there were all just excuses to get away from the very fact that they'd killed so many. Vanity replaced pride, responsibility guilt, and in doing so, the shiki remained, ready to destroy anything and everyone who tried shattering that illusion.

Yuuki's fangs came away from her neck. His hand fell back to his side, his deep, abysmal eyes still trapped in that dark slumber. Megumi leaned away from him then. She scrutinized Yuuki, her scarlet orbs readily taking in his glass expression. "If only they hadn't dragged you in it," Megumi slowly began, "maybe things would've turned out like that."

A few seconds later, her hand came up, and stroked his cheek. "And everyone would still be alive, and we'd go on complaining all the time, about how much we wanted to leave. We'd still be ignorant of everything around us. We'd follow their rules, all the while hiding behind their pride. We'd get to keep our blissfulness, and we'd do whatever we wanted to, as long as no one found us out. That would've been great, wouldn't it?"

She placed both hands behind his head, and pulled him in, before planting her own, clean lips, on his bloody ones.

* * *

Author's Note:

-First of all, I would like to thank you all for reading and reviewing Purgatoriu. The comments are all wonderful and helpful, and I appreciate you all. This isn't the final chapter, but it's getting very close.

-Next, a lot of the plot in the story had relevant songs playing through my head. I listened to "Calendula Requiem" before Natsuno and Megumi met up. Afterwards, for the school fashion show and Kaori's part, as well as Yuki's, I listened to "Zoetrope", from the opening of Amnesia. I never watched the anime, but I did like the song, as well as the lyrics. When Haru was reminiscing on his "shattered lie", I listened to "Aoki Tsuki Michite", the ending song for Black Butler, 'Book of Circus' (I especially liked the lyrics with the 'palette of lies'). When Toma appeared in front of Megumi, I felt that Psycho Pass's ending, "Fallen", fit perfectly. For Natsuno's delusions, I listened to "Filament" by Yosei Teikoku, which talked about forgiveness and despair, something I practically obsessed over. Of course, during the plot, I listened to Shiki no uta, eau de vile, the usual soundtrack for the Shiki anime. I threw in Hell girl's ost too, as well as Elfen Lied's "Lilium." I just can't write without some form of music playing.

-For Natsuno vs Haru, I didn't use any songs from any anime. Instead, I listened to Breaking Benjamin's "Dancing with the Devil", and Starset's "My Demons." The Gregorian chant "Dies Irae" also played in with the dark atmosphere.


	85. Chapter 85

Kaori woke up to a very loud, panicked alarm.

Love howled in her ear, as he tried to drag the poor girl out of bed, his thick saliva already seeping into her sleeve. The smell of ash kept attacking her nostrils, and television reports echoed from across the hallway. Loud, popping noises joined the garage of sound, and soon, she began sorting out the cacophony. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Mr. Yuuki's concerned silhouette quietly tiptoe into her room, and before long, she felt him nudging her slightly.

Her muscles ached at the sudden effort. Slowly, she got up, and turned her head, rubbing the weariness from her eyes. She looked up at Mr. Yuuki, who had worried lines embedded in his eyes.

Afterwards, she heard Akira's panicked voice, and the eerie calm the reporter injected into the atmosphere. Love kept barking, and in a split second, Kaori got out of bed.

The dog led her through the hallways, his constant whining slowly bringing her from fatigue. She blinked away her sleepiness, and when she came out into the hallway, Akira stared at her, his wide, miserable eyes taking in the murderous silence. She scrutinized him for a bit, before she turned to the TV.

The first thing she saw were bodies.

* * *

Darkness seeped away from his eyes, and low groan rising deep inside his throat. His hands groped around the cool sheets, the vague silhouette of white surrounding his limbs. Frostbite touched his fingertips, all the while a cold blanket shrouded his limbs. He could feel his fangs protruding from the roof of his mouth, along with the familiar taste of blood coating his tongue. Slowly, his senses came back to him, and he sat up.

He stared out at the darkness, the twilight gracelessly splayed across the room. A dark, gray fabric lay on the floor, its own, worthless shadow dredged along the ground. Stray golden lights danced along the ceiling, the calm noises outside a testament to the sharp contrast he'd gotten to know so well. Slightest traces of perfume covered his nostrils, with tiny glimpses of entwined crimson scattered all over the bed. He looked around the room for a bit, before alarm came coursing through his veins. His hand flew to his mouth then, the dried blood enveloped around the corners of his lips now evident in his mind.

Natsuno grabbed his torso, as he recalled the sharp pain that grazed him. The wounds have already disappeared, and the bleeding had stopped. He clenched his teeth, as he dragged himself out of the bed, his orbs falling back to their usual whites. But as quickly as the alarm came, it receded from his system, the turbulence settled within the quiet evaporating from him.

He scanned the room for a little more, Shimizu's faint scent enamored within his senses. He stood there, taking in the bloody traces she left on the floor, before swirling around and starting toward the door. Haru's broken body kept reappearing in his mind, and familiar, unpleasant words decorated his thoughts with silence, as he kept on with his troublesome memories.

He stopped.

There was a shadow in front of him, just before he passed out. Dark eyes stared him down, with scarlet and snow blowing around them like an unassuming, uncorrupted bystander. Quiet permeated from her frame, and even now, he could see her, that unreadable expression decorating her face, without the slightest hesitation.

Shimizu heard him.

She heard those confessions.

* * *

The heavy fatigue dragged his body below his torrential emotions. Ice pricked his skin, with freezing claws entrenched beyond his core. Shadows danced over him in the dark blue, the loneliness calling out to him with its fearsome tones. A hauntingly beautiful melody reached his ears, a song he was neither ready nor willing to listen to. He tried blocking out the tunes, and yet, for some reason, he couldn't move his arms. Something was pinning them down.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. His lungs twisted and ached, the alveoli forcing out every stray breath he managed to take in. His heart was breaking down, both oxygen and blood slowly poisoning each other with their own, greedy vanities. Veins started disintegrating inside his body; he could practically feel the fragile lines snapping all at once, all the while trying to desperately pump blood into their failing master.

Painful cries grasped his eardrums, their scandalous secrets becoming little more than a nuisance within his slumber. Piles upon piles of gibberish gathered around his brain, all of which meticulously tore each one apart. Words, sentences, pauses he could barely understand, were beginning to break down in front of him. Individual whispers became robotic, the traces of comprehension gradually slipping away from him. Frightening tones and dying wishes covered his memories, and familiar calls of childlike innocence started to disappear before him. Those voices kept growing louder and louder, the very instance of decay nothing more than a myth to them.

He tried opening his mouth to scream, but nothing came from it. Poisonous emptiness infected his body, his own will degrading with every swing the pendulum struck. Mocking laughs filled the atmosphere, with aggressive shadows surrounding him from every corner. Plastered smiles barred their white, gleaming fangs, the age-old insults steadily coming to him. Their charismatic lies covered his vulnerability, followed by a solitude that came with that role in society, the lowest embarrassment unraveling before him.

He winced at those taunts. He tried running away, yet those prying eyes still settled around him, delegating their sickening entertainment to him with ease. He whimpered mentally, all the while trying to force them to leave.

_…__hiko?_

They won't stay away.

_…__suhiko? _

He opened his eyes.

"Yasuhiko?"

Florescent lights stared down at him. White gazed at him with cool indifference, a sharp contrast to the night settled outside, with tiny strays of pink still left along the horizon. An IV needle latched into his arm, and a sharp ache immediately consumed him. He fought down a painful hiss, as he tried adjusting himself to the fading anesthesia. From the corner of his eyes, he could make out the casts enveloping his legs, the bandages skillfully wrapped around his limbs. His arms were placed neatly on his lap, with the vague contrasts of stitches entwined along the lines of his skin. Blond hair clung to his forehead, the cool sweat once enamored now forgotten within the traces of blood and gore. There was a nurse standing by his bedside, telling him what'd happened, what injuries he sustained, whether or not he'll make a full recovery.

Revelations from Sapporo forcefully came back to him then.

Natsuno, ripping apart those beasts gladly, as if he was dancing to the chimes of some demonic lullaby.

Natsuno, slamming Haru down, his hands wrapped murderously around his throat.

Natsuno, glaring at him happily with those empty pupils, so very unlike the vibrant atmosphere he'd gotten from before.

That face the shiki wore, as well as the corpses he gladly surrounded himself with, was absolutely horrifying. That same, terrifying look reappeared in front of Haru, and yet, a lone, sense of isolation wove its way into his being.

Haru never even saw Megumi that night, and when he caught up to Natsuno, he only found a stranger in his friend's place. Crimson enveloped the atmosphere, giving way to a dreadful despair that made Haru wonder if damnation really had existed, if the pain he'd been allotted in life compared to the fear he felt that night. The scene seemed so surreal, his own expectations shattered before him like a worthless, fragile lie someone came up with. Snow covered his icy torso, as the abandonment crashed down on him so very easily.

And they weren't there to see it.

They weren't there.

He clutched the sheets. The villagers at Sapporo were all dead; he was sure of it. Neither Megumi nor Natsuno were ones to leave the undead alive for long. And if he had to guess, they were probably heading off to Sotoba now, trying to undo the perceived damage Haru gladly introduced. After that, they'll leave him.

He froze.

"One more thing," the nurse said quietly, bringing Haru back out of his thoughts. "You've got a visitor."

And just like that, he saw her.

Megumi.

She was wearing a simple, black minidress, with see-through sleeves nestled against her pale skin. Skulls and roses were stitched onto those sleeves, and a leather choker adorned her throat, with a red rosario beed dangling from it. Black combat boots hugged her legs, the familiar chains descending around them inconspicuously. She didn't paint her nails, and she didn't take the time to put on makeup as she usually did. Her ponytails were down, her hair softly brushing across her shoulders. An unreadable darkness decorated her eyes, with an equally unpredictable frown traced across her lips.

He heard the nurse's footsteps coming away from him, the door shutting just when he took in those details shrouding the shiki. His eyes started widening at her appearance, and yet, just as quickly as that shock came, it faded. Slowly, he sank back onto his bed, and though he tried saying something, he couldn't force the words out from his throat.

Why?

Why now?

"Haru," Megumi called quietly, after the longest time. He looked back up, surprised at her calm, melancholic demeanor. There were no traces of emotion splattered across her face, no candid frustration he'd usually see from her. The shame he thought he'd see, the anger, the confusion, all of it, removed.

She stayed in that one spot for a while, before closing her eyes. She came closer to Haru then, her hands numbly at her side. Haru's lips parted, the very notion that she was here still, standing right there, in front of him, shifted through his body. Then, with a desolate smile, he stared at her.

She caught that smile, and turned toward the window. "The ambulance took you to a hospital not far from here." she said. "The reporters are swarming all over the place, trying to look for you. It'll be hard for you to leave this place, unless of course, you want to start up another massacre."

Haru gripped the sheets. "…I…"

"Yuuki's fine," she continued on, as she swirled back around with those same eyes. "He's sleeping right now."

Haru gazed out at the nothingness for a while, then slowly, he released those sheets, the tension fading from his muscles. "…Right."

"Why?"

Why….

The same question, the same answer. But a different person was asking it this time.

Haru glanced down, and repeated that answer, the one only he could be satisfied with. After that, the two both lapsed into the quiet once again, time seemingly slipping past them without that compassionate warmth he'd grown so fond of. And yet, somehow, Megumi managed to find her voice before he did. "How'd you do it?"

Haru looked up at her. "…I…I used-"

"The villagers, I know." she said. She narrowed her eyes, the lines permanently etched into her dark, angelic face. "What I want to know is how you managed cast away your own humanity, just to use them."

Humanity, huh?

"Those corpses were embodied into a single, grotesque puppet," she continued. "You never hesitated giving them your judgement, and even when they begged, you never spared them. How many more fell in front of you like that? Fifty? A hundred? The entire village, maybe?"

"…I-I didn't-"

"They _weren't_ worth it, Haru," she snapped coldly causing him to wince. "They aren't worth anyone's lives. Why you fell for them, I've no idea, but-"

"I know."

"What?"

Haru looked down. "I know what'd happened, back at Sotoba. Weren't you suffering? Shouldn't you, at least-?"

"Do you really know?"

He blinked. "Megumi-?"

"Do you really know what'd happened in Sotoba?" she repeated, a harsh tone coating over her emotionless one. "I was suffering, huh? Did Toma feed you that crap, or was that something you came up with?"

"I-!"

"If you'd only stopped to think, it would've been obvious," she said. She walked over to Haru's bedside, the callous shadows swarming over her so easily. Darkness faded from her corneas, her red pupils now reflecting Haru's ruinous state. She grabbed his chin, and forcefully dragged it upwards, meeting her cruel face. "Haru-"

"It wasn't your fault though!" Haru shouted then. "It wasn't-!"

"I tried killing Yuuki."

He stopped.

Slowly, her fingers slipped from beneath his chin, that emotionless gaze returning to her face. No remorse, no guilt, nothing at all that crossed her face as easily as it did with Natsuno's, or his.

It was…empty.

"Megumi?" he managed.

She stared at him for a while, before looking up at the frost-stricken window. Painless memories drifted through her system, the thoughts in her mind clouding the hostility she had before. "When the Kirishikis came to the village, I was curious. I liked the mansion they lived in, and the way they held themselves; they were just so different from the village I've always hated. So I came up to their house one day, and I was bitten."

"I-I-"

"I felt like I belonged there. They complimented me, accepted me, did whatever they could to make sure my morals stayed dead. I went on killing whoever they ordered me to, if only for the sake of seeing the smiles on their faces. I killed a lot of the villagers, you know."

She closed her eyes then, the sickening humor coming back to her so easily. "It wasn't long after that I set my eyes on Tooru Mutou, Yuuki's friend, a person he liked more than me."

"B-but-!"

She laughed pathetically then, the sharp bark causing Haru to wince. "I killed Tooru, made him like me, and that's when Yuuki found out. The Kirishikis ordered for him to die, so they had Tooru do the job.

"You should've seen him. He was crying his eyes out like a little baby. He kept saying how they'd attack his family if he didn't carry it out, but all the same, he was so reluctant I got sick of it. So I decided I'd take the order right off his hands-"

"Wait-"

"-and murder Yuuki."

Haru stared after her, the coldness penetrating throughout his limbs. He could hear the voices from the outside, footsteps sounding from the empty air as the doctors and nurses continued with their night. The gales outside began to pick up, the dancing shadows from within the midnight light lightly dancing on the floors.

Haru started to speak, when she turned around, the crimson piercing through darkness so very easily. A wicked, yet sad smile tugged at her lips, enamoring that haunting beauty Haru followed after. "I killed Kaori's dad, and I made him attack her family, as well as everyone else. It didn't matter who I attacked; as long as the people I hated were suffering, I was fine."

"I-"

"And it's that reasoning I can't help but ask you; do you honestly think Yuuki and I were wronged? After all, all the villagers did was protect themselves from their predators. And pride isn't a bad thing to feel, especially when you're trying to survive. For both the shiki, and the humans."

Sarcasm oozed from her voice, and whatever concern he remembered from before had instantly vanished. The dresses she made, the jokes she pressed, the far off, distant looks he kept seeing her with, had all disappeared. He bit the inside of his cheek, as he examined her face once again. He was about to say something, when he stopped himself, the creatures resurfacing in the back of his mind.

"And it's not the villagers' faults either," she continued. "I mean, who could blame them? Traditions, society; in the end that mattered more than morals. They mimicked shiki behavior well, so it's only natural they fight back."

Those creatures, who kept crying out to him, begging that he end their pitiful lives. Those villagers, who cowered whenever he walked toward them, whenever he said anything, whenever he threatened them with knives and guns and light.

He refused to believe Megumi.

"If that was true," he started, "you would've killed yourself along with the other villagers too, wouldn't you?"

Slowly, she turned to the boy, the black shrouding her eyes once again. "Haru-"

"You're lying," he said quietly. "You don't feel that way…at all. You blamed the villagers, for everything. You hated them so much you wanted it to end, but when it was time for the Purge, you tried to leave, didn't you? They wouldn't let you; they tried dragging you to your own, shallow grave. You hated them for that."

She never answered.

Haru clenched his fists. What was she saying? How could she possibly think that, when everything they did was make fun of her? If she killed, then weren't those villagers guilty too? If she was pinning herself down like this, then why-?

"Do you honestly believe that?" she finally asked.

"I do."

"I am a monster, Haru. Me and Yuuki both."

He gritted his teeth. "You're not! Neither of you are…"

"You were desperate to save us from a bunch of bad guys your imagination cooked up."

"But even now, you still believe they're there. Don't you?"

Her scarlet pupils faded, and what little light had managed to come into the room had now scattered into the darkness. Those voices vanished, and loud footsteps came away from the hallways, leaving the two silhouettes in silence. Haru held his breath, not daring to let out another inaudible sound. His chest grew tighter and tighter, as he thought back on the painstaking details he delved into creating their haven, the torrential emotions he pushed aside, if only to use Sotoba for their refuge, the anticipation he got from the many imaginings that kept going through his head, the very reminder of life's cruelty distorting his reasoning with only beautiful things.

But those beautiful things had turned to ash the moment, she smirked. "You know, you're smarter than I gave you credit for."

Slowly, she walked toward him, her elongated shadow bending to whatever object was present around her. Her pale skin matched the white background so well, so much so he only ever saw the color that adorned her. Before he knew it, she was only a few inches away, her cold palms settled on both his cheeks.

"But it's none of your concern," she whispered then, her icy breath washing over him.


	86. Chapter 86

She stared at the door with wide, frightened, all the while fumbling with her imaginary excuses. Her hands trembled as she reached for the knob, only to draw back once again, her trembling never ceasing. Her bag was slung carelessly over her shoulder, her pale jacket almost catching the dust falling from the metal. A white t-shirt clung to her body, and pale blue jeans wrapped around her legs, a testament to the cold humidity plaguing her skin. Bright white shrouded the skies above, and when she tried moving again, she stopped, before placing her hand tightly against her chest.

_Stay away from Sapporo, _was all she could hear.

Kaori bit her lip. It'd already been three days since she saw Sapporo on TV. Those monsters were splayed across the crimson floors, their broken limbs being salvaged by whomever was near. Police kept throwing up, and sickening reporters surrounded the sight, trying to catch a glimpse of the makeshift funerals. She remembered how morbidly interested the bystanders looked, their cool, empty eyes taking in whatever they could, so they could brag about the experience later. She remembered the designers and models complaining about how their precious night was ruined, the critics wondering how they could possibly make up for a mistake they hadn't known would come. She remembered the onlookers reaching out and touching that blood on an impulse, murmuring at how tragic it was, all the while texting on their phones and bragging about how they went to the scenes.

She clenched her fists. Both Natsuno and Megumi were there, weren't they? Weren't they supposed to stop this from happening? And what about Haru? Was he safe? Was he lying dead somewhere, in some forgotten ditch where it'd take years before someone actually found his body? Did Yasuhiko-san know the danger he was getting himself into? Did he know the problems that circulated around the two vampires?

But then…what problem was so horrific that it had to end…like this?

She lifted her fist and pounded against the door. "Yasuhiko-san!" she called.

She held her breath, her shoulders tensing with each second past. She grew restless after a while, and she knocked again. "Yasuhiko-san, it's me! It's Kaori!"

Only silence.

Automatically, her hand gripped the knob. It's funny; she'd never been here before, even though Yasuhiko-san invited her over and over again.

_Stay with Haru._

She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to come out. Yasuhiko-san liked Natsuno. He liked Natsuno, and he liked Megumi too, even though they probably only ever lied to him, even though they let Yasuhiko-san believe the things he did. He was naive, innocent, blissfully unaware of the darkness that longed to envelope him. He was caught up in his own thoughts, his own mindset, and it was through that he managed to get caught up in all of this. A stalker; that's what Natsuno said, wasn't it? What'd that stalker have against Yasuhiko-san anyways? Was it because he was close to those two? Was it because he killed someone, even though he didn't want to? Was it because he was human?

But she couldn't bring herself to find any of it out. She knew what'd happened to Natsuno when he tried. She remembered how distraught Mr. Yuuki was, when she was about to follow through with that same darkness. She remembered how worried Akira was, and how heartbroken Love acted whenever she left him behind, if only to satisfy her curiosity.

Yet Yasuhiko-san managed to find himself in the crossfire.

Why? She did everything a normal girl should've done. She did whatever she could to keep herself away from the shadows, from seeing Natsuno's unsettling tranquility, to feeling Megumi's tears spilling over her face. She kept watch over her makeshift family, and when Yasuhiko-san came back, she kept herself close to him. She never screamed, or cried, or begged, and she didn't even consider the questions swirling around her mind.

So why then?

_Why was this happening? _

And unknowingly, she turned the knob, and opened the door.

Unlocked.

The cold flourished her skin, the quiet creaks soundlessly grinding against her ear. Tiny, trivial shadows danced along the flashes of light, with a faint scent of muffins flashing through the air.

She stopped. She fought down the instinctive urge to look around, to shut the door and turn away. Questions she tried to ignore were now shouting in her mind. Brief glimpses of those creatures entwined in her thoughts, and when she looked up, she could practically see the familiar silhouettes within the darkness; she could see Megumi, who almost got ripped in half trying save her, could see Natsuno, who bared his fangs at her, his crimson pupils reflecting back the fear in her eyes.

At that instant, she heard Yasuhiko-san cracking jokes about aliens, the sight of the shadows nestled beneath his eyes. She saw Mr. Saito's corpse down below, the bloody hole replacing where his heart used to be, as well as Mr. Hitoshi, the kind, gentle nurse who always tried helping Mr. Yuuki. She saw Yuki, who bullied her relentlessly, whose headless corpse was found ones day in a neighborhood, and Ken-kun, whose flowers made little difference when it came to easing Kaori's guilt. Mr. Yuuki, Akira, and even Love flashed her mind.

With one, fluid motion, she came into the apartment complex.

She saw a tiny, brown table in the middle of the room. It was small, elegant, somewhat rundown, but comfortable at the same time. There was a large, black blanket shoved underneath, along with stray candy wrappings and empty chip bags Yasuhiko had forgotten to take out. Neat stacks of paper lay on top of it, and next to them, a lamp with little anime stickers on it, though from here, she could see some of the stickers already peeling off. To the left of that table was a bookshelf filled with maps and manilla folders, along with what looked like old textbooks the school gave out. There was a TV to her right, which was mounted against the wall, seated on top of another, empty shelf, one that had tiny, fake flowers inside a clear vase.

As she walked into the room, Kaori noticed a wide, half-open window in front of her. White curtains swirled around the gentle breeze, the stray glimpses of sunlight caught along the folds. She crept closer to that window, and caught the aroma of fresh muffins once again. She blinked, as she carefully leaned out the window. She looked around the busy streets, before fixating her stare at one lone bakery directly across of the apartment.

Its bright, green letters contrasted to the thick, gray atmosphere the city seemed to cater to. Tiny, lively plants decorated the outside of the store. There was a small, silver bell dangling on the edge of the door, along with a large, wooden porch that housed clean, steel tables, most of which were occupied by tired accountants and cashiers. A large, glass window revealed the different pastries settled in front of it, from muffins, to wedding cakes, to cookies, to any other surgery thing she could think of. There were a lot of people inside that bakery, and though the dull afternoon continued bombarding the store, somehow, it managed to retain its liveliness. She couldn't help but close her eyes, and breathe in the scent again, before turning away, and examining the room.

It was cozy, ethereal, more relaxing than what Kaori was accustomed to. Peaceful, and quiet, removed from all the troubles life seemed to throw at its inhabitants; lovely, in a sense, but a bit lonely, even for Kaori.

She crept across the floorboards, and turned her attention to the files on the table. She stared at them for a little, before sighing. What was she doing here? Yasuhiko-san probably had to rush off somewhere, and he'd forgotten to lock the door. Yes, something did happen at Sapporo, but at the very least…

…At least…

She couldn't make up any excuse for what'd happened there. Miyuki was debuting, and Yasuhiko-san told her to stay away. There's nothing she could tell herself that wouldn't soothe her frustrations. And the destruction was happening right before her eyes; it'd only be a matter of time before it got to Mr. Yuuki again. But maybe it won't be Mr. Yuuki next time; it might be Akira, or even Yasuhiko-san himself.

_An assisted suicide. _

She could feel her hand reach out, and stroke the papers. She tightly clutched the edges, the hesitation permeating from her small frame. Her nails dug into her skin, and at once, she ignored the light, feathery room. She ignored the ignorant bliss surrounding the air. "Yasuhiko-san," she whispered softly, "what're you hiding?" She placed that sheet in front of her.

The first thing she saw was Sotoba.

Pictures upon pictures of dead bodies piled along her eyes. Terrified expressions ingrained themselves into her brain, all the while black puddles of blood calmly stared down at her. Police dug through the bodies, and medical doctors busily searched through their reports, their puzzled mood conveyed clearly from the illustrations. Her eyes roamed the page, and in that very same moment, she turned the page over, and stared at the blank space.

It'd been a while…since she last saw the Purge.

But she pushed herself onwards. She started digging through the papers, shifting through tables, doing whatever she could to figure out the secrets behind them. She scrutinized the investigators' detailed observations, as well as the increasing desperation their own, mindless gibberish began developing. Comprehensive anecdotes became little more than scribbles of insanity, and it wasn't long before she had to toss them away.

She then scanned through maps, trying to get a sense of the numerous marks around Sotoba. There was Kanemasa, Yamamiri, and Monzen. The commercial district was crossed out for some reason; if Yasuhiko-san really was going off his theory about aliens, was he trying to determine the location of the attacks? Was he trying to see where they took place, if only to get a sense of the strategic tragedies that took place there? What was he trying to do?

She grabbed another sheet, as she put away another. She didn't know how long she'd been there, before she finally saw it.

Megumi's death certificate.

* * *

Natsuno came into the lobby, his dark eyes paying little attention to the people walking past him. He stared up at the high ceilings, the clearcut lines that decorated the oversized room, the gracelessness that seemed to fall away from the atmosphere. Fading whispers fell from his frame, and advantageous tactics were made in his midst. One business woman tried to approach him, but he fell away from her, as he walked toward the elevators.

"Hey."

He turned around, and saw that same receptionist there, standing at her desk. He blinked, allowing the silence to fall between the two as she stared at him a bit more. She suddenly looked down, as she fumbled around her desk. Finally, she looked at him again, a slight flush of scarlet spread across her cheeks. "I ah…you're um…"

"Miyuki's roommate," he finished easily. He took one step toward her then, and shoved his hand in his pockets. "What is it?"

"…T-tell her that uh…that t-there's a ceremony t-tomorrow…y-you know…"

He stared at her for a moment, the vague words instantly coming back to him like another memory he'd accidentally forgotten. That's right; after Sapporo, Shimizu was supposed to attend the closing ceremonies in Tokyo, wasn't she? Along with the other designers and models that appeared.

So, even after all that's happened, they were still going to host it, huh?

He turned away. "I'll tell her when she gets back."

"I-I'm sorry!" the girl stammered, clumsily trying to bow. "F-for-!"

Natsuno never listened. He simply strolled toward the elevators, the shapes hazily passing by him without precedence. His eyes grazed past the bystanders as he came through the steel doors, along with the other inhabitants that tried jamming their bodies inside.

Silent, cool breaths subtly made their way from his lungs. Shimizu was supposed to attend the ceremony, and after that, there'd be awards. There'd be networking opportunities, and since Haru was still in the hospital, Shimizu could spare some time to make nice with the other critics. She didn't have to show her face for long; spend ten minutes with them, and that should do it. Still, it's not like she'd get a lot from this; probably half the funds the designers managed to secure will go to the "Massacre at Sapporo", and everyone might just be expected to show at least some remorse for what'd happened there, even if no one cared for it. Everyone will go on with their lives like it's nothing, and that'd be it.

The elevators opened, and Natsuno walked out. He came to that old door, and opened it, the untouched mess now nonexistent within his eyes.

Silently, he closed the door, and made his way toward the table, his attention fixated on a black cellphone lying on the surface. He'd gotten so annoyed with the constant pestering all the other models were giving him, he decided to shut the device off for the entire day. Just yesterday, he was almost going to throw the stupid thing away but somehow, he managed to deal with it.

Slowly, he bent down and picked up the tiny thing. He patiently waited for the screen to flicker on, and before long, thousands of messages flooded the device, nearly half of which from conceited fans, agents, businesses, and anyone else who was trying to coerce Natsuno into talking to Shimizu on their behalf. It was all so strange; Shimizu managed to get both their numbers mixed up, and now, instead of calling her, they were all calling Natsuno. They tried fixing it, but by then it was already too late; since her various clients had already associated with Natsuno, it was just easier to let things be as they were.

The other half, however, were from the yakuza. Some were paying their dues, while others kept him informed about the criminal syndicates inside Tokyo. He'd even have information about Tokyo's politicians inside the text messages. It didn't matter who came in; either human or shiki, somehow or someway, Natsuno would hear about it. It was an effective means to see through possible threats, and a good way to root out any unnecessary enemies. It was also a good source of revenue.

He narrowed his eyes, as he flicked the screen shut. But even those means wouldn't last forever. The yakuza had a bad reputation to begin with, and the populations in the US are starting to crack down on the gun trade, though that, of course, proved to be a bit of a failing case. What's more, there've been a lot of dysfunction with the syndicates in New York and Chicago, and though the impact wasn't much, Natsuno knew income was slipping away due to court fees and bailouts. He's also heard rumors from the police that there'd be more restrictions in the red light districts involving gang-run businesses, and though there's no traceable evidence to link Natsuno with the yakuza, there's no way to avoid money loss. It wasn't safe to rely on Japan's stocks either, since the surplus was starting to degrade prices, so foreign stocks would probably be a safe bet.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, and turned to the window. Haru was back in a hospital in Sapporo. Natsuno never went into see him, but he'd heard from one of the nurses that the boy would be staying there for a while. Neither the police nor the media could get inside, and whatever visitor managed to come near would simply be escorted out. For the time being, he was safe.

The jinrou thought back on Haru's words, on his illogical, yet reasonable motives. He reminisced how fragile that boy was, how vulnerable he'd be to the frigid elements surrounding those blinding minutes. He could still hear those gunshots sounding throughout the air, the incoherent shouts and whispers which decorated the scenes happily. He could still see blood pouring to the ground, their twisted reflections staring back at him with their nightmarish perspectives, so very unlike the human counterparts he knew long before.

He turned his gaze up toward the ceiling. Natsuno had no idea what to make of Haru Yasuhiko. Why he said those things to the unconscious boy flew over his mind, the turbulent emotions jabbing at his senses recklessly. Whenever he saw Haru, he saw Tooru, so there was no time to ponder about the present. Their demeanors were so different, and yet, for some reason, Natsuno kept up with his facade, if only to recover some part of a forgotten past.

If he saw that boy again, what would he say to him? Would he scream desperately, as he'd done back at Sapporo? Would he simply turn around and walk away, knowing full well he couldn't stand the thought of the appellation coming back to haunt him? Was Haru worth it, in the end? Was he worth all this anguish and madness? Even if his intentions were noble, was he just another excuse Natsuno could use against Tooru?

But, for some reason, Tooru was nowhere to be found. Aside from that night, Natsuno never saw him again. That goofy, idiotic smile on his face, the familiar warmth Natsuno had grown to know; it was all there, embodied in that very second, before slipping from his fingers completely.

There was no apprehension in his disappearance, nothing that could've possibly shattered that fading moment, as Tooru vanished. Natsuno couldn't bring himself to feel anything about it; all those emotions seemingly fled his body from the second he collapsed.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, and turned to the window.

He saw Shimizu standing there, gazing at the outside, that empty frown plastered so easily on her face.

It'd been a while since he last saw her.

He didn't want to dwell on that silhouette during that snow, white night. He didn't want to think about the humiliation he'd gotten himself into, from the moment those words left his mouth. He didn't want to think about the shame that came with that painful loneliness, the quiet, drifting seconds aimlessly passing them by.

And yet, he was here, going on about his life, as if nothing had happened. Shimizu was here, building up her opportunities, as any other teenager would.

Models, critics, designers, and yakuza; what an odd combination to be in, for times like this. They were both here, living like any other human would. Money seemed to come easily, and what with the constant pressures filling their schedules, it looked like they didn't have any time for anything else but normality. It was as if everything that'd occurred with Sotoba, with Tokyo, and even with Haru, had vanished, the moment he came back.

There was a certain uneasiness that came with the notion, as if something more should've filled his thoughts, as if all he could do was just stand there, and ponder on that missing aspect.

But what else could he do, but sit, and wait?

From a distance, he could hear the tiniest chimes of a clock somewhere nearby. Personally, to Natsuno, that clock sounded like a death knell.


	87. Chapter 87

_Forget us. _

Haru sat at the table, on that one cool, winter afternoon. His white trench coat lay on his lap, with a loose, dark green sweater surrounding his torso. His blond bangs carelessly draped over his bright, caramel eyes, which stared at the two, warm muffins in front of him. He drummed his fingernails lightly along edges of the mahogany table, as he shifted his gaze out at the blank, snowfall outside. He couldn't make out a single footprint along the sidewalks, couldn't see any of those playful little shadows that hyperactively marred winter's pristine beauty. No laughter sounded through the air, and no jubilance distorted the lonely quiet. It wasn't long before he turned back to his muffins, his fingers ceasing their drumming.

That light entwined with the cafe's silhouette. No warmth permeated from the normally bustling business, and no uncaring eyes gazed ahead at the forgotten cash register. The empty tables around him shouldered nonexistent frostbite across their surfaces, with the cloudy skies staring down at them, taking in the murky colors it never really cared for. Empty chairs gave way to past shadows, all of whom were probably laughing at some random joke, one he couldn't bring himself to care enough about. Tiny morsels sporadically dotted the usually clean floors, the sugar slowly decaying with every tick the clock on the wall made. He took note of it, then he picked up a muffin, and took a tiny bite.

"Hey."

Though his eyes were firmly planted on the table, he could make out finite details on the girl. She was young, around his age. She had thick, black hair, and wide, brown eyes. She wore a long, white sundress, and a tiny, gold locket dangled from her neck. Her arms were folded across her chest, and even when he turned away, he could make out the cheerfulness that diffused through the air.

The girl crept closer, cocking her head with the slightest movement. He could feel her eyes boring his hands. Before long, she asked, "You mind if I sit here?"

Slowly, he nodded.

Her smile grew wider. She pulled out the chair across from him, and set herself down. She straightened her dress, and placed both hands in front of her. She stared at him for a few more seconds, then, without further reluctance, she turned to the window. "Look at that. Beautiful, huh?"

Silently, he removed his hands from the muffins, his appetite fading within the moment. "Yeah," he answered.

"Don't you think it's kind of weird?" she pressed. "No one's outside. Those elementary school kids should've gotten out by now, right?"

"I guess."

She leaned closer to the glass. "Man, the stores are closed too! What a bunch of wusses; it's not like the ice is _that _bad, you know?"

He started to reply, before falling silent. He closed his eyes, his hands dropped to his lap, the fatigue overcoming him.

The girl turned back around then, the smile disappearing from her lips. Her bright pupils darkened for a split second, and in that instant that, nostalgia flashed her expression. Yet somehow, it was soon replaced by yet another, more conservative friendliness. She smirked, as leaned back in her seat, her hair falling toward her body. "You just gonna sit there?" she asked in a prideful tone. "I mean, it's a beautiful day. And it's not like you're gonna freeze to death or anything."

"I'm fine."

She blinked. Her gaze drifted toward his muffins, and she promptly sat up. "Then can I at least have one? You're not gonna let a girl starve to death, right?"

Automatically, he slid one of the muffins in her direction. The girl's lips parted slightly, as she sat there, trying to comprehend his uncaring disposition. She looked down at the muffin, before looking back up, and scoffing haughtily. "Man, you're a dumbass."

He brushed aside the word, the emotionless air shrouding him then. The white fabric blatantly stared back up at him, the lovelessness of its warmth beginning to fall away from him. He caressed the edges, then stared back up at the girl, catching sight of her smug grin. He shrugged.

She paused for a brief second, before she groaned, narrowing her eyes at his unresponsiveness. "C'mon! Normal people aren't as boring as you."

"Maybe I'm not a normal person," he dismissed.

"You're an idiot then."

"Huh…"

She slammed her fist on the table, causing Haru to jolt. His hands automatically flew to his chest, and his eyes widened a bit at her sudden outburst. "W-wha-?!" he managed, only to have her scream in return.

"Don't say 'huh'! Say something else! Like 'bitch' or 'fuckwit' or whatever! Yeah…call me fuckwit! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?!"

"W-wait-!"

"And seriously! What's with the attitude?! Look at you! You look like something off those stupid zombie movies everyone keeps talking about. No, scratch that; a ghost! You look like a damn, suicidal ghost! What? You lose a bet or something?"

…A bet?

He stared at her for the longest time, trying to understand this girl's mental issues, while taking in her anger. He tried opening his mouth, but was caught off by yet another one of her incessant complaints. "And what's with the whole 'poor me' thing? You know, you're a really cool guy, but have more confidence in yourself! Geez, you're really pathetic."

He narrowed his eyes. "Hey-"

"You're better than that, aren't you?!" she continued. "You wouldn't even be _alive _right now if it you kept this up." She stood, and slapped both hands on the table's edges, the echoes noisily sounding throughout the empty cafe. "What's wrong with you?!"

He clenched his teeth. What was _wrong _with this girl? _"Look-"_

"Loser."

"The hell is your problem?" he hissed back.

_"__You are." _

"_Me?_"

"Yeah, _you_."

"What'd I ever do to you?"

"Your stupid attitude, that's what."

"What does _that _have to do with anything?"

She sighed frustratedly, as she sat herself back in her seat. She looked up at Haru then, with those familiar, candid eyes, as she scrutinized him. "You really don't know?"

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but-"

"It's because of that attitude, that your friends are suffering now."

* * *

Golden lights shimmered from the chandeliers, creating a procession of shadows that came with its sophisticated gaze. Tall, arched windows were adorned with velvet, and intricate folds of white, see-through fabric that wrapped meticulously around the silhouettes. Large, grand staircases were coated in crimson rugs, which entwined gracelessly within the somewhat archaic, aristocratic air. Within the confines of those meticulous details, elites all crowded together, dangling wine glasses from their fingertips, brushing off whatever idiocy their commoner fans managed to delve into. They were all stiff, not even bothering to sway to the slow tunes the pianist cast overhead, drowning the poor man out with the latest gossip about other designers, models, celebrities, practically anyone that came to mind. And yet somehow, they managed to find the time to watch each other with predatory eyes, to make invisible, fragile alliances, and to zone in on any vulnerable rookie that crossed their paths.

There was a stage in front of the ballroom. Nearly half the room kept leering toward it, while the other half peered over the heads of their peers, endeavoring to catch a glimpse of the intimidating. They were all obsessing over it, attempting to gauge the judges' responses in the back of their feeble minds, endeavoring to soothe their fears that, at the very least, they'd get _something _out of this whole ordeal. The way their jaws hung open, as well as the disturbing attachment the designers all developed for the stage, was something he couldn't help but shudder at.

Natsuno held his wine with one hand, as he watched aimless bodies pour through the glass entrance, the crowds of reporters gathering near the doors, as well as the somewhat illusionary jubilance everyone seemed to throw themselves into. From the corner of his eyes, he could see his own reflection in the dark, red drink, along with a few of those faces staring at him from behind. He fought down a grimace, as he looked back up at the crowds, knowing full well that more than a few faces were gazing at him.

All over the ballroom, he kept hearing the name "Miyuki" over and over again, with the designers asking where she was, if the little prick thought she was better than everyone else here, if she was dating anyone. Soon after, the gossip came after Natsuno, and by then, everyone gave him their opinions, either directly or indirectly. He could practically hear the whispers erupt from behind him, the troublesome rumors circulating throughout the room. Getting into a stranger's business, no matter how threatening that stranger seemed, leaving no dark secret untouched, all the while maintaining their friendly behaviors; it was the sort of thing he couldn't stand.

He closed his eyes, and placed the glass against his lips then. He didn't everyone would be this nosy, especially in the city. In a way, it was worse than that stupid village.

Some time later, a short, stout man was walking up the stage. His beady, avaricious eyes stared down at the crowds, as he tapped on the microphone. After a few minutes, he cleared his voice, and immediately, everyone quieted. "Can…can I have everyone's attention please?"

Natsuno looked up then, sorting out the wrinkles from the man's face, as well the confident smile that was plastered on his face. He stared out at the shadows, before taking a deep breath, and giving his speech, something Natsuno simply tuned out.

At that moment, the jinrou wanted nothing more than to leave. It was practically the same words he's heard Shimizu's fans screamed; how half the proceeds will go Sapporo, and the other half to the organizations. The designers will receive a bit of compensation, and the winners will get a certificate, a plaque, probably a job offer at some big shot design company in the UK. It's the only thing anyone could ever talk about these days; he would've had to be an idiot to miss it. In fact, the very determination everyone had in their eyes annoyed him to no end.

But wasn't just the ambition; corruption also came from those underlying opportunities. He was surprised at how easy it was to bring down someone from on high. A lie here, a stretch of the truth there, and soon after, a designer's reputation could come tumbling down. A critic's insult could be the very thing between a designer and their ticket to fame, and with one, simple mistake, everything could come crashing down, with little hope of recovery. Hungry eyes kept following the designer around, and it was through that drama arose, if only for the sick entertainment of others.

Sometimes, they'd even resort to illegal activities, such as human trafficking and vandalism, if the perpetrator was desperate enough to win. He'd even seen a couple of those designers lurking around the apartment complex, trying to determine where Shimizu was, where she was hiding in the midst of the tragedies. The hostile, close-knit community, the way everyone kept taking notes on each other, trying to spin the right lie to take their competitors off the markets; yes, it was worse than Sotoba.

It truly was disgusting.

When the man finished, he crept to the side of the stage, and grabbed a small, plain envelope one of the judges held up. Natsuno smirked, as he turned his gaze back to the wine glass. Maybe that's why Shimizu wasn't here; after all, he's heard her complain over and over again about her 'colleagues'' immaturity, professional or not. Screaming at a phone, or just sitting on the couch, staring out at the empty space in front of her, there was always room for complaint.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't irritated, but then of course, it was amusing too. More often than not he'd ask her why she kept pursuing this career path, if it made her as miserable as this. That, however, was something she couldn't answer, and so he was left to ponder on her decision.

"In third place," the man cried, out, his scratchy voice bombarding Natsuno's ears. "Hayato Mimoshi!"

A begrudging applause came from the audience. Slowly, the designer made his way to the stage. He accepted the plague, and bowed, the slightest traces of agony splattered across his face. The man started scanning the room, trying to pinpoint those satisfied smirks, all the while swallowing his pride and plastering on a fake smile. Natsuno kept his head down the entire time.

At some point, they called for Shimizu, but by then, he turned his heel. It was too stuffy in here, and it seems like the very atmosphere was choking him. He couldn't stand the crowds here anymore. He needed to get out. He needed to get away from these people.

"Yuuki."

He stopped.

Shimizu stood there, in front of him, hands empty, with night's coolness coming off her so easily. Plain black ribbons tied up her now messy, rosette ponytails, and a long, dark dress cascading down her body. Pale skin bounced the golden light away from her, her own presence contrasting sharply to the crowds around her. Black abysses coated both her eyes, and an unreadable expression grazed her face, one devoid of happiness, or hostility, or even confusion. No hesitation came from her, as she took a tiny step toward him. "Tired already?"

He blinked, before turning around. A few of those jealous stares were still trained toward him, though at this point, confused whispers diffused throughout the room. Apparently, Miyuki was absent.

"Yeah." he answered.

The piano began playing again. That tiny, stubbly man gawked at his audience for a bit, and when he tried reclaiming their attentions, he was greeted with annoyed gazes and defeated resignation. At last, he sighed, and left everyone to their now ruined fun. The designers came back to their little cliques then, observing each other with the same tact, the artistic battlefield slowly coming alive. Partners were designated, comrades were falling, and soon, they all began swaying to the dirges resounding ahead, the piano's lullaby but a cry for more attention.

The two shiki stared at the crowds for a bit. Aimlessly bodies began swaying to the music, and soon, everyone parted, as if entranced by the siren calls. Shimizu still stayed where she was. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd show."

"It'd look bad for me if neither of us showed up," he said quietly, unable to move away from the present. Memories of that night kept coming back to him, her own shadow surrounding him with tense quiet.

She closed her eyes. "I see."

"Where were you?"

"With Haru."

Natsuno froze. But before he could ask anymore, she moved out her arm, the deadness arising along within the still air. A solemn expression decorated her face then, that eerie beauty descending upon her so easily. He regarded her with wary eyes. "Shimizu-"

"If we just stand around here, people will think we're the weird ones," she said silently. "Come. We should, at least, try to blend in."

When he grasped her hand, the unmistakable scent of blood gracelessly swept over him.


	88. Chapter 88

_Throw out all the lies you've made before. _

"What?"

The girl sat back in her seat, her bottom lip pouting anxiously at the confused boy in front of her. Her prideful gleam distorted her already vain eyes, as she smirked at his apparent stupidifty. "You heard me," she spat. "If it wasn't for you hiding behind your friends all the time, you wouldn't even be in this mess."

Haru narrowed his eyes. "And what would you know about it?"

"_Plenty_."

"I _highly_ doubt that."

"Wanna bet? You wouldn't even be _alive _if you didn't feel that way."

"Bullshit," Haru snapped, as he thrust his gaze toward the windows. "Just what'd you want anyways?"

"Good question."

"What?"

"Good question," she repeated aimlessly, as she followed his gaze. Her eyes traced the hazy lining of the empty stores, the white flurries passing by without the slightest care. She pulled both her legs toward her chest, and rested her cheek upon her knee. She wrapped her arms around them, and removed her gaze from the outside. "Personally, I don't even know who I'm talking to."

…What?

He balled his fists, trying to suppress his irritable frustration. "Go screw with someone else," he said. "I'm not in the mood-"

"You're the only one here," she explained lazily. "Who else can I screw with? Besides myself, of course."

_"__Look-" _

"Just admit it," she interrupted, a confident tone enveloped around her words. "You've been hiding behind them for a while now, haven't you? Too scared to get up by yourself. Too fragile to depend on yourself to hold onto your sanity. Man, I always knew you were a chicken, but I didn't think you'd be this much of a coward. I mean, to think you'd let things get _this_ crazy…"

"Just shut up," he whispered bitterly. "I didn't ask for your opinion, bitch."

The girl started clapping her hands jubilantly. "_There_ he is! _That's_ the way to go about things! Hah! Finally managed to get a rise from you, didn't I? You're really weird though, you know that?"

Haru blinked, attempting to take in the strange moment. He started to open his mouth, when he caught sight of the muffin dangling from her fingertips. Slowly, the muffin began tearing away, and before long, it plopped to the table, leaving minuscule crumbs stuck to her thumb. "You know what you should do?" she asked then. "You should've just let them die."

His eyes widened. "What are you-?"

"Oh don't tell me. You didn't think about it before? You didn't think about how pathetic your own situation was?"

"I-!"

"Think about it!" the girl stated happily. "You relied on something as frivolous as friends to get you out of your little rut. You clung so desperately to them you never even bothered to stop and think about your _sanity_. If you ask me, if it wasn't for them, you'd probably still have _some_ of that sanity left, however little it may have been."

"I'm not the crazy one," he hissed. And all the while, she just kept shaking her head, trying to smother her uncontrollable giggles. When she stopped, traces of humor were still splattered across her face. "Yeah, you are. At least, that's what it looks like anyways."

"What're you-?"

"Back then, you did the same thing."

"What're you _talking_ about?"

"You really forgot?"

"I," he began, before he paused, his own words caught inside his throat.

One by one, memories eased by,with the desolate atmosphere shrouding him deeply. They were blurry, but he could see that girl there, standing in front of him, arms outstretched, tears running down her eyes. He blinked then, before turning away. "I-"

"That's fine," she dismissed, the vague notions of a smile plastered on her face. "I don't expect you to remember something that horrifying. I mean, we were both still kids."

Her fingers elegantly came from her side. She took a tiny piece of the muffin, and pushed it into her mouth. She savored the taste, then looked up, nostalgia permeating through her eyes. "Huh. You really should say something, when conversations turn deep like this."

"I don't feel like talking." he dismissed.

"Of course you don't. You never do." Slowly, she dragged another crumb away from the muffin. "Back then, I was always the one who did the talking, right? Remember that one time, when we talked out the best ways to waste time?" You never said much either."

"I-"

"And all the complexities of life?" she continued, as she closed her eyes. "You never said much either. You let me ramble on and on about sushi and anime and idiots. Not very social, huh? Oh, and death too. We talked about that a lot, but for some reason, the topics never seemed to stick."

"I don't remember that."

The girl opened his eyes, and looked up, the confusion permeating from her frame. However, she never acted on that confusion, and kept on. "Well, it happened. You should just take my word for it, you know?"

"Right."

"Think about it," the girl pressed. "No one in our class wanted to go into stuff like that. But I did, and I had you to talk to about them. Cool, huh?"

It was hazy, but yes, he did recall something like that happening. So, he decided to humor the girl a bit. "Where'd we talk?"

"In this cafe."

"I see."

"No apparently; you don't." She straightened herself, and gave him a mischievous grin. "See, you got it wrong. _We _didn't talk. _I _talked. _You _just sat there and agreed with everything I said. Personally, I didn't like it."

He shrugged. "So? What's your point?"

"But there were people you could open up to, in my stead," she said, gladly taking in Haru's irritation. "You could talk with them about practically anything; homework, artsy stuff, your favorite type of muffins. Man, you could've just sat there going on and on about that stuff, and you didn't have to worry about them calling you out for it. You really looked alive then."

"I'm alive now, aren't I?"

She paused. Slowly, she dredged her fingers back toward her pale chest. "You're an idiot," she chuckled quietly. "Just because you're breathing, doesn't mean you're alive."

"What'd you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." She took a deep breath, breathing in winter's melancholic scent. Before long, she continued, her mindless rambling ceasing from then on. "I'll admit, there are a lot of corpses out in the real world, sleepwalking through a life they never bother paying attention to. No enthusiasm, no ambition, no spark, nothing but desolation and suffering; it gets kind of boring.

"But, there are other creatures out there, monsters who seem like monsters, but are really human. A bit of a weird concept, if you think about it."

"You mean society?"

"That's one way you could look at it," she replied, taking another piece of the muffin and stuffing it in her mouth. She gulped the morsel down, and grinned widely. "Then of course, society's a little small, in my opinion. In order to understand this idea, you've got to look at the big picture, at the world, at humanity and all its flaws. You looking at this?"

"I…guess…"

"Okay then!" she chirped pleasantly. "Now, I want you to think of every sick action humanity could come up with. Lying, rape, torture, murder, execution, extortion-"

Haru gripped the folds of his jacket. "That list could go on forever. What're you trying to prove here?"

"'A word of advice; girls don't like pushy guys," she leered, before drawing herself back and folding her arms across her chest. "Now, I want you to think about monsters. Every single one-"

"Like I said-"

"And apply that same list to them."

He stopped, the words slowly slipping from him. Carefully, he scrutinized the girl then, his lips slightly parted. Before long, he turned away. "Don't drag them into this."

"But it's true, isn't it? Humans, monsters, in the end, that list applies to every living creature on earth." She pressed her fingers against her chest, that immature elegance gradually fading from her. "It doesn't matter if we choose to do those things; it's natural. Crime and punishment, condemnation and redemption, trial and jury; it's not even important, when you consider the consequences of your actions."

Haru stared at the girl, as she took apart another piece of the muffin. Finally, he sighed, and slid the other muffin toward the middle of the table. "So what?" he asked. "When you want something really badly, you wouldn't stop to consider the consequences, do you? And even if you did, you'd just cast them away. You don't care about failure, or setbacks, or even if your hands are coated in red; that's just how life is."

"Nature."

"Excuse me?"

She scoffs. "It's not life, but nature. Get it? _Nature. _Haru, let me ask you something. Which do you think is better; that humans are inherently good, or inherently evil?"

He set back in his seat. "What does _that _have to do with anything?"

"Everything."

"What?"

"Right and wrong aren't really clearcut, when it comes to the real world. Human morality is a product of society, and it's through that we find no meaning in life. Justice is flawed, corruption gain rise, and in the end, someone has to suffer. The people who suffer are the people we deem as criminals, or outcasts, whichever you prefer.

"Take this for example. Say there's a really quiet guy in your class. No one knows anything about him, and the only time someone's ever talked to him, he just flips them off. Now, a really bad crime happened at your school, like gossip, or bullying, or someone getting pushed off the roof. You think you or your class would take the time to find the people who did those things? Or would they just call out that quiet guy? Which do you think seems easier?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Haru replied unwaveringly. "People have unnecessary assumptions and stereotypes already built into their perceptions. It's not like that quiet, rude guy gets any say in it. In the end, he can't force them to change."

She giggled. "I was right. You are boring."

"So do I get a prize?"

"Of course not. You still haven't answered my question."

* * *

Bodies swayed along the midst of the crowds, as the piano dulled to soft, tinkering noises. Soundless footsteps swayed back and forth, to that smooth, rhythmic procession, all the while the fluorescence came down upon the audience. Tiny, strategic conversations suddenly resounded throughout the atmosphere, the trivial business meetings taking form of formal dances, which kept aimlessly moving throughout the room. Gradually, the frustrations ebbed from the air, as one by one, the designers started their plotting.

Natsuno's eyes stole to the shadows down below, as he gripped her hand, trying to brush aside the blood that'd so readily diffused into the air. But she brushed aside his discomfort, as she placed his hand on her waist. She put both hands on his arms, and without thinking, they swayed along with the others, taken in by the endless notes that grazed their eardrums. Neither looked at each other, as the melancholy radiated from their frames.

After a few moments of silence, his pupils flickered toward her empty ones. "What happened?"

"He's alive," she murmured quietly. "It'll be around a month before he can get back up, rehab and all."

"That's not it what I'm asking."

She stared up at him with empty eyes, her own body easily reflecting the golden atmosphere around them. She tightened her grip around his arms, before turning toward the crowds. "Feeding," she said.

"I see."

"I heard you that night."

Natsuno stopped for a brief moment, his dark, amethyst eyes widening at the thought of her shadow looming over him. He could feel the frostbite on his fingertips, as well as the nonexistent, chaotic gales swirling around him. He started to answer, before stopping himself, the words refusing to fall away.

Silence overtook the two, before he turned away. Guilt temporally came across his face then, though afterwards, that remorse disappeared as well. It was as if they were both in that very same room again, where the villagers laid, helpless in their shallow, yet formidable graves. He closed his eyes. "And?"

He could feel her examine the air around them, the atmosphere slowly constricting the society which grazed them so. "Why?" she finally asked.

"Why?"

"Why'd you sell us out like that? It's not like the humans would've accepted you either way. And besides, Tooru was one of us too, remember? So were a lot of the villagers."

When he didn't answer, her bangs fell over her eyes, and a small smile fell upon her lips, a smile he couldn't make out. "I guess that's one of your ugly secrets, huh?"

"I didn't do it out of pity."

"Did you hate us that much?"

Again, he remained silent. Fires came around him, the slow, burning scent of ember and ash filling his nostrils so easily. Heat clashed with the cold, and at an instant, the only thing left he could ponder on, was the devastation the village once hid. Screams and singing filled his ears, all of which became a symphony, if only for the silhouettes of past ghosts standing with their audiences.

"I did," he answered.

"Because I killed him?"

"No."

"Because we attacked people?"

"Because it wasn't natural," he interjected quietly, "for the dead to rise up. I did what I thought was right at the time. Nothing more."

It's funny; even from his own lips they sounded cold, standoffish, nothing at all like the grieving victims at the funerals, or the quiet sorrow the village seemed to caress from its sceneries. In a way, he sounded like the humans, like the shiki, but not like himself. Never himself. Then again, did Natsuno know what he sounded like anymore? Shimizu probably knows, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her.

She stared up at him. "Tooru never crossed your mind?"

He turned back to her. "What?"

"He was your best friend, wasn't he?"

"Yes," he automatically answered, "but he-"

"He wanted to live," Shimizu continued. "He once told me that if he didn't attack you, Tatsumi and the others would attack his family."

He narrowed his eyes. "And who do you think _put_ him in that situation?"

"I was."

"Then why-?"

"It's true," she said, with that same, emotionless tone, though tiny quips of desolation played out along the features of her face. "I turned Tooru. I was the one who pushed him into murdering people, though I would've preferred he rotted in his grave."

When she started to sway away, he gripped her tightly, and pulled her toward him, allowing no means of escape. "Shimizu-"

"I pushed him into that direction, but somehow, he forced himself to do it, even if it disgusted him to no end. Tatsumi used that same threat over and over again, but soon, he didn't have to tell Tooru anymore. Tooru hated himself, but he could live the hate. However, when he was ordered to attack you, he choked, and I tried taking the order from him."

He bit the inside of his cheek, his steady pulse resounding throughout his eardrums. To think back on something like that, the slightest traces of agony still there, residing in his own mind, was a bit redundant. "Why're you telling me this now?" he asked.

"You asked Haru if you were disgusting, didn't you?"

That question fell between the two, the quiet slowly rebounding from the decadent air.

Tooru, who appeared in front of him many times before, the friend, who twisted guilt into a hideous product of crimson and black, was there, soft snowflakes descending around him. He was there, with that same smile, the same warmth coming from his eyes. There was no fire, no bodies with stakes impaled through them, no reminisces morality, the lines between human and shiki blurring in-between; only good memories, memories of the village, memories of everyone at school, of his own, shallow ambition of leaving Sotoba. The apprehension evaporated, just like that, from the moment Tooru disappeared from the cold, callous moonlight.

Tooru…was always a weird guy.

But he also remembered Shimizu standing there; even now, he could practically see the blood running down her arms, the quiet caresses of twilight still shimmering off her skin, as she wiped away the organs.

Slowly, Shimizu shook her head. "I'd rather you didn't do that again."

"What?"

"Call yourself disgusting; it's degrading."

He stared at her, for a bit, before smirking emptily. They followed the crowd's aimless movements, switching from one step to the next without the slightest hesitation. "How would you know something like that?"

"I was merciless," she mused then. "Because Tatsumi didn't have to manipulate me as he did the others. I killed on my own, freewill. There's no telling how many died because of me. Even now, I don't think I feel anything for those people; just cold satisfaction, probably a bit of understanding."

"You just contradicted yourself."

"How?"

"A bit of understanding, huh?"

She paused for a moment, before chuckling. "I guess you're right. Say, Yuuki. What would happen if that understanding…just disappeared?"

He stared at her for a bit, the seconds passing by them with perfect ease. He closed his eyes. "We wouldn't feel guilty." he answered simply.

"We wouldn't?"

"No," he replied, reminiscing on the happy smiles he never paid attention to, the irritating rumors he never bothered listening for. "Maybe the only reason anyone ever acted against the shiki, was because they were in the same boat. The villagers all knew they were being attacked, and through their friends and family, they could empathize. The fear of being hunted down, of losing your loved ones to monsters you never knew had existed…"

His voice falters then. Kaori, and Akira, and even his own dad; they were all in that village, fighting to live. Primal instincts erupted from the moment they realized what was going on; not even Natsuno could understand the dark, animalistic pit the once peaceful mountainside had become. But all the same, he sided with his thoughts, and continued. "It must've been terrifying."

Shimizu looked down. "And that all comes from empathy?"

"I would think so."


	89. Chapter 89

_And live. _

"Let's rewind for a moment," the girl said, as she placed her legs down from her chair. "C'mon Haru; good or evil?"

He grimaced at her persistence. What answer was this girl was looking for? What'd she want from him? "Fine. Good."

"Why good?"

"Wouldn't life just be better?"

"Think about what you're saying, for one moment."

"What's there to think about?" he asked. "Everyone would treat each other with respect. There'd be no bullying, no crime, no prejudice; people would accept others as they are, and that'd be that. We wouldn't have to fight wars, and we wouldn't have to hurt each other just to get what we want." He scrutinized the girl for just another second, before sighing. "But is that the right answer?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"You _asked." _

"I just wanted to hear you say it," she replied, as she settled back into her chair. "And what of the other side? What if people were bad?"

"Isn't that our reality now?"

"Is it?"

"That list you gave me," he explained, "happens every single day."

"So it does."

He narrowed his eyes. "You realize _that's_ the world we live in now, right?"

"Everything's got a backstory; sometimes, it's just a matter of finding out." she counters, as she leans toward him. "Before, you said that if everyone was inherently good, essentially, the world would've been a better place. And yet, we live in a world where everyone's essentially evil."

Haru flickered her eyes toward her. "Aren't we all evil, in one way or another?"

"Evil with reality," she whispered slowly, as she carefully broke apart another muffin. "And what of good? What's that mean to you? Paradise? Heaven? A place where everyone can get along and live happily ever after?"

"What're you saying?"

"Opposites," she began, as she lifted both her hands in the air, and entwined her fingers together, "are apart of this twisted world. Think about it; evil, good, illusion, reality. Isn't that what this is, really, in the end? Isn't that the concepts you've been exposed to over and over and over again?"

Her tone faded softly along her blank reflection from across the table. Her dark hair spilled over her expression, the lines on her palm slowly making their way toward her lips. She kept them there for a while, as she peered out that window once again, the slightest frown traced across her mouth. Haru could only watch her, the memories enveloping him in their own, sweet darkness. He cast a forlorn shadows embracing the empty cafe, the lonely sounds from the conversation echoing throughout the walls, with a tiny, comforting aroma weaving its way into the air. Confusion muddled with those clear lines, as the clouds rolled by on the outside, overshadowing his own silhouette while he remained there, removed and empty. At that moment, he answered. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Mmm."

"Why? You seemed so sure of yourself before."

He didn't answer.

Her eyes settled across his face, her inquisitive eyes revealing a morbid light within her pupils. She stared at him for a bit, before settling back in her seat, and laughed. "Well, I guess that wouldn't surprise me. You said it yourself; if there's something you wanted so badly, and you're willing to do anything to get it, you wouldn't consider the consequences."

She straightened then, that fearsome, lively vigilance returning to the scene. "But that kind of thinking isn't special. After all, a lot of people have the same thoughts you do. The victims of my little list, and even the normal people who look down from their broken thrones; in the end, it's all a matter of perception."

He turned back to her, his eyes uncertainly taking in the words spewing from her mouth. "What'd you mean by that?"

"Evil and reality, good and illusion; what are they?" she asked softly. "Delusions humanity cooked up? Devices society used to maintain order? Or even a dream justice came up with, to preserve its fragile ego?" She closed her eyes, taking in the weight of her own words. Even from this distance, to Haru, it seemed like she beckoned some thing within that darkness, the shadows wrapped around her like a warm, comforting lullaby, tempting her with small, insignificant promises of rest and sleep.

"Haru," she suddenly called.

"What is it?"

"I'm going to ask you about something…very unpleasant."

Haru blinked, the strange, happy girl now removed from his sight. That empty smile, the instant shadows enveloped beneath her eyes, her pale skin now dimming within the vast darkness of the cafe, and even the tiny crumbs dangling from her skin; all of it, was incredibly familiar. "What is it?"

"Do you remember that night, in the Suicide Forest? When I asked you to kill me?"

He froze.

Quite, breathless murmurs blew from the outside, sweeping away the flaws were left on the streets, burying the dirt underneath a field of crisp, bitter ice. He never moved, never took his eyes off her, as she shifted slowly, placing both her legs down, and gradually straightening her back. She placed both hands off the table then, and stared at him with her dark, unsettling eyes. Whatever tension was left in the atmosphere disappeared, replaced by a subtle, yet binding shock that dared him to move, to react, to do anything at all that would've, at least, resembled any normal being. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't force out whatever words were trapped in his throat, couldn't stop replaying to her complex, but simplistic question.

She regarded him evenly, before closing her eyes, and smirking. "I remember," she stated quietly. She looked down at her muffin, taking in the tiny, vulnerable shadow easing its way through the night. "I was crying, and you were crying. We were both fighting over the gun-"

"-and I shot you," he finished quietly, the sentence slipping from him so carelessly.

She paused for a moment. She was about to say something, but stopped. She took a deep breath, and smiled. "That's not right."

That same shock slowly faded from his system, as the realization dawned on him. He could feel the frigid wind attacking his skin, the stillness of the room slowly surrounding the quiet, with a lachrymose not even he could understand. His muscles tensed at the memory, and when he stared down at his hands, familiar stains of dried scarlet reappeared before him. There was a dead person lying there, a forgotten person he was too humiliated to face. There she was, with that dead, hopeless expression in her eyes, the tear streaks vanishing from the weight of cruel compassion. A desperate smile clung to her red lips, and whatever warmth she carried had dissipated, as it settled the morbid curiosity of the ghosts lingering near. The bullet was lying somewhere else, covered in brain and eye and whatever else organ he might've ripped through.

He shot her.

_He shot her. _

He clutched that white coat with all his might, as his bangs fell toward his eyes. Guilt didn't come crashing down on him, nor anger, nor sympathy, nor sorrow; rather, something else, a loneliness he couldn't avoid, an emptiness that latched only to him, like a forsaken shadow after being swept away by raging emotions. Every tear that fell, and every curse made toward the world and its unfair judgments; all of it, was embodied in that single, uncharacteristic emotion. A quiet hearth, being thrust out into the cold, nary a soul to guide its way; what was it?

"Haru-"

"Why?"

She stared at him for a moment, before coming back into her seat, the surprise etched into her face. Before long, she turned to her muffin, her hair spilling from her shoulders. "I was tired."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"Of course it is," she answered. "You really think I'm that innocent? Like it or not, I've got sins too."

"But… do you have any idea _what happened after that?!"_

"I-"

"The police didn't want to have _anything_ to do with you! They put you down as a missing person forever; they were so sick they even had your funeral _without_ your body! Your _parents_ came up to me and said _they were sorry for my loss! _No one at school mourned for you, and even the teachers didn't seem to care. It was like I was the only one who remembered you, and I didn't even do _A DAMN THING TO STOP YOU!"_

"Haru-"

"What the _hell_ did you do that was so wrong?!" he screamed. "You never let those bastards get the best of you! Even when you were crying, no one ever found out! But even you…!"

His voice wavered, and as he sat there, the frustration building up with each second passed, from the corner of his eyes he saw himself trembling. Those painful memories, all there, taunting her, mocking her for all the worthless, insignificant crimes they could come up with.

Friends, family, school, society….

She still died.

She died because he _couldn't save her. _

She narrowed her eyes. "_Look-"_

"Those guys-!"

_"__I pulled the trigger."_

"_Does it even matter?!" _

"It does!" she shouted back. "_I _killed myself that night, not you."

"What're you _talking _about?"

"It was stupid of me to ask you to do something like that." she stated silently. "I shouldn't have dragged you into my mess, even if we are friends. I'm sorry."

"What're you _apologizing for?! _Can't you feel anything else?" He looked up then, the desperation evident in his eyes. "Are you really fine with this?! Taking all their insults lying _down?!" _

She laughed emptily. "Not really."

"_Then why-?!" _

"If I did that, I don't think you'd want to see me again."

"What?"

"You wanna know what would've happened, had I not died that night?"

"Even if you didn't-!"

"I would've _snapped_."

That eerie confidence settling across the atmosphere. Haru could only catch himself then, as he looked up at her. Cool, resolute eyes remained fixated on him, showing him a motive not even he knew about. "What…what'd you…?"

"When everyone started acting like complete douches, I kept thinking to myself, 'Haru's in the yakuza, right'? Every scornful look they gave me, every snicker I heard in the hallway, every beating I got from my parents; all that time, I thought about you, and the yakuza."

She smiled her cruel, half-smile. "You wanna know what? Suicide never even _occurred_ to me that time. I didn't think about how much I was hurting, didn't think about escaping, or hope, or any of the above. All I thought about was the yakuza, and your very big guns."

"Wait-"

"I thought about how much I wanted to blow everyone away."

"Hold on-"

"Including you."

The silence collapsed then, and all the tension hidden beneath the air dispersed instantaneously.

The girl placed one leg back on her chair, and allowed her forehead to fall forward. He felt his own mouth open, but no words came out, the excuses disappearing from him as quickly as they came.

"And there was no 'maybe' in it," she said harshly. "I would've done it; I would've. I had a plan and everything. I wanted to pass judgement on everyone; my parents, the school, the police. I wanted them to see themselves for everything they've ever stood for, no matter who I had to destroy. I would've crushed everything in my way; I would've ruined your chances at living again, had I not died that night. If you don't believe me, you could always go to my house; the plans are all there."

"…So…so how-?"

"Simple," she replied. "When I really stopped to think about it, I guess…that'd mean I'd be no different then they were."

"I-"

"But I was still really pissed. When I asked you to come with me, to the forest, I thought about killing you. Then I'd kill myself, and we'd be done with this world. That's… what I wanted to happen. I wanted to drag someone down with me, just before I went."

She closed her eyes, the painful expression splattered all over her face, with that same, agonizing smile strapped to her lips. "You see now? Evil and reality, good and illusion; none of them matter, in the grand scheme of things. You thought I was good, a passing in some sweet daydream you had from long ago. But no; I'm just some selfish bitch who wanted to burn the world down. I didn't care who I had to use, didn't care what I had to do to get my way. I mean," she continued, as she peered up at him, "it got so bad, I wanted to kill my best friend."

He couldn't breathe.

"Shows you how messed up I was, in the end."

_He couldn't breathe._

"I'll ask you again Haru," she said quietly, as she stood from her seat. Her hair swung away from her back, and her fingers draped gracelessly around her muffin. The soft noise her footsteps gave off crept silently along with the howling wind, her silhouette changing ever so slightly to the darkness nearby.

Yet, somehow, it became lighter outside. Through that light, he managed to see the meticulous sorrow carved into her face. The grimaces, the winces, the fake smiles; all of it, plastered onto her face, like an oversized mirror.

"Which is better?" she asked. "That humans are evil, or good?"

He couldn't answer.

She stared down at him, before smirking quietly. She walked around the table then, the shadows following her blindly throughout the cafe. She stopped, just mere foot away from his seat. "It doesn't matter if I tell you anything else," she continued. "I struggled with that question for the longest time. It was the only thing that stopped me from killing you."

"I…I-"

She pressed her palm against his mouth, halting any procession of empathy she could've received. Undeserving eyes relayed her remorse onto his, the full extent of her conscience revealed within the confines of that minute. "On second thought, I don't want you to answer that. I was always scared of what you were gonna say. And I'm still running from that answer, by the way."

What could he say? What could he do? There was a lonely, painful cry nearing the edge of her sanity, and yet, she managed to remain intact. Here she was, just standing there, her own tone enveloped around him with a sweet, beloved poison he couldn't even remember.

He could feel an deep, black hazy spreading throughout his body. He could hear a crack resounding throughout his ears, the coldness shrouding his limbs with a heavy frostbite not even winter dared touch. He could feel his weariness overtaking him, as those silent dirges bubbled to his lips.

But in spite of all that, he could still feel her trembling.

"Don't."

He looked up.

"I expected more of a reaction from you," she whispered. "Normal people would freak out when they find out their friends wanna kill them."

She remained in that quiet for a while, before, finally, she removed her hand from his face. She turned to the window then, peering at her own, haunted reflection, examining it, scrutinizing it, trying to memorize every single expression that ever crossed her own face. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her seeking after it.

"Do you see now?" she asked. "Morals aren't important, when it comes to life. Good and evil, illusion and reality; they aren't set in stone. The principles, however muddled they are, apply to everyone, in this twisted, pathetic place, both humans, and monsters. After all, being stabbed by your best friend, hurts a lot more than being humiliated by your worst enemy. Isn't that right?"

She was slipping away.

"Huh, look at that."

She was moving away.

"I dragged you into this, didn't I?"

She was going to leave again, wasn't she?

"Couldn't even save you, in the end."

He grabbed her fingers, and stopped her.

It's strange; she was always so resilient, whenever he saw her. Easily frustrated, always emotional, and but somehow, someway, she maintained her facade, in school, at home, like it was nothing. He knew the girl everyone didn't; he knew her, even though by then she might've already started slipping away. Even if they were just remnants of an empty shell, for some reason, he still latched onto her. He cared for her, though she might've made up her mind, to destroy herself, and everything around her.

And it was in her memory that he lost himself.

A lot of good that did, for him and her.

"Haru-"

"I don't care."

"What?"

"It didn't matter, what you felt, that night," he said, as he took that small, fragile hand in both his palms. "We were both desperate."

"But-"

"I've seen so many things, with that desperation," he kept on, the experiences of those precious, past months drowning out his mind. "I know what it felt like, to want to protect something so badly. I know what it felt like to have friends who cared about you, people who loved you. I got to know all that, even though I've sinned over and over and over again. And I…"

His voice faltered. He remembered how they were back then, just laughing at all of life's stupid antics, without the slightest care in the world. He remembered how scary Hitomi could be, when someone dared pissed her off. He remembered that irritating coolness Natsuno gave off, whenever Haru tried asking him a question. He remembered that childish crush he had on Megumi, though she managed to refute his advances over and over again.

Hitomi, who wanted to drag him with her to her own, premature grave, Natsuno, who gave his cool, icy smile whenever Haru came near, and even Megumi, who pushed him away in the end.

There they all were, his friends, his hearth, and he couldn't do a single thing to help them.

The situation…really was annoying.

He took a deep breath, and smiled.

"Hey," he said, "let's go outside."

She blinked. "What? That's…that's-"

"You said it yourself, didn't you?" he reminded quietly, as he placed the white jacket away from his legs. He stood up, one hand on the table, the other holding Hitomi's. He turned around then, the same scenery still upon them. "Today's a beautiful day."

* * *

"And what about shiki?"

"What about them?"

"Do you think they felt the same way?"

Natsuno scrutinized Shimizu's eyes, the fading silence reaching him from. By then, they both stopped moving, the shifting bodies aimlessly passing them by, with nary a gaze on them. He stared at her, then shifted his eyes elsewhere. "Yes."

"And you never ran away."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Why?

That question echoed throughout his ears, and though the reasons flooded his mind, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say any of them. If he'd have to pick a reason, he might've said it was because of Tooru, who was suffering before his eyes. But in that respect, the answer didn't seem right. After all, Tooru did want to live, and Natsuno wanted nothing more than to wipe out every last shiki from the village. The jinrou didn't care if no one accepted him; perhaps he wanted to let the untarnished get away. Kaori and Akira, his father, Tooru's siblings, anyone else who wasn't swept away by the gore and chaos, the morality of it all a ruined testament to the fires which engulfed the mountainside. Did he want to be the hero? Did he want to do the right thing? Was it because he wanted to feel good, even if no one remembered his heroism, even if he had to betray the people around him?

"I don't know."

Her grip tightened. "Do you think they carried the same empathy?"

"It depends," he said quietly. He fell quiet for a bit, before closing his eyes. "Tooru tried to attack me once. He said that, eventually, everyone gets over the guilt of using humans as food. He said humans were the same way, with animals. A parasitic species, using another for one's own gain, and yet, for some reason, ever since we came out here, we've never had to do that. We've never had to kill people, even though Tooru said we would."

"I see," she replied. She paused for a moment, before smirking at the memory. "A nice shiki, trying to be a nice human, and yet, all the same, carrying that conviction around with them. And there's that empathy, to carry them both."

He shifted his gaze toward Shimizu, resignation settling on him then. "I guess that's true."

"They both destroyed one another, didn't they? They burned everything around them, attacking each other relentlessly, if only for the sake of their own goals and pride, their own survival." she stated quietly. "No one ever thought about the consequences, because we wouldn't have gotten punished for it. No one, not humans, not shiki, _no one." _

He looked at her then. "Shimizu?"

"But the guilt is suffocating."

She stared back at him, the blackness faded from her eyes, replaced by familiar, white corneas, her scarlet pupils slowly edging away from their domesticity. "Yuuki, I thought I got rid of it. I did everything the Kirishikis asked me to, and I never had to feel that remorse. But now that I'm here, I do. I feel it, and it's _suffocating."_

Her hand suddenly slipped from his. She gripped his shoulders tightly, her own strength failing to conceal her trembling. Natsuno's eyes widened then, but before he could say anything, she stopped him. "I thought that if I could stay away from the villagers, they wouldn't come back," she said, her turbulent tone wrapped around her frenzied voice. "They'd stay in their backwoods village, and they'd leave us alone! I didn't belong there, even I was born there; I was an outsider, and I figured that if I stayed away, there wouldn't be any reason they'd come after me. For the first time, I actually forgot I was shiki!"

Forgot?

"But I was wrong. I didn't think those old bastards would be that persistent. All the lives I've taken, everyone I've ever wronged, it's like they're all coming back! Those idiots have already destroyed each other, but they want more, and I _don't know what to do! _They're all there, wanting more and more, and I can't _stop them! _It's like they're all watching me right now, waiting for the chance to attack, to drag me back where the stakes and flames and bodies are."

"Shimizu-"

"Before, you said if there was something ugly, I shouldn't look at it. I shouldn't. But they're all standing_ right there, and I-."_

"Shimizu!"

She stopped.

Natsuno watched, as slowly, she let go, her arms falling limply back to her side. Just as quickly as the seconds came, they vanished in an instant, their fragile presences slipping away from him with ease. He held his breath, the moment ending within that frail, helpless atmosphere.

It was the first time he'd seen her so scared…

"Sorry," she mumbled then. "I'm not making any sense, aren't I?"

He leaned forward, the words echoing throughout his mind the moment she turned away. He remembered that day, remembered the way she stared off at the sky, the eerie calm slowly weaving its way through their conversation. He covered her eyes with his own hands, and asked her not to look, if only to preserve her humanity a bit longer. He dragged her away from the growing light, and kept her there, right in front of him, for a little while more.

They, she said.

The villagers.

"But that's fine."

Before he knew it, her arms came around his waist. Her hands gripped his shoulders, as her face fell towards the nothingness. Cool warmth radiated from her body, as she pressed him close. Strands of hair fell from Natsuno's eyes, as the girl enveloped him, the unstable refuge now corroding before his eyes. A subtle heat splayed across his face, the feel of her embrace suddenly clouding his senses.

But all the same, that bloody scent reached his nose.

Haru.

"It's fine if you don't understand," she whispered, her lips slightly touching his ear, the brokenness entrenched within her voice.

"What're…you saying?" he began then, as he turned toward her. "Shimizu, what's done is done-"

She shook her head then, the heavy silence coming upon the two with a familiar, horrifying coldness. "Yuuki, they've destroyed everything, but they still want more."

"What-?"

"I won't let them."

"Hey," Natsuno said, one arm coming up to her shoulder. "What're you saying? What're you _talking_ about?"

He felt her arms drop back to her. Her forehead fell to his shoulder, the warmth he felt now slowly disappearing from her body. At an instant, he stopped her from moving away. He wrapped one arm around her waist, while the other was pressed against the small of her back.

"I'm not going to ask for forgiveness. I'm not going to bow to anyone either."

Natsuno was afraid to let go. "Shimizu-"

"It'll be alright."

* * *

Kaori stood in front of the hospital room, her hands pressed against her side. She never bothered putting up her ponytails today. She hugged her yellow jacket tightly, all the while wiping cold sweat from her palms onto her jeans, as she regarded the door evenly, taking in the scenarios already coating her mind.

Questions she wanted to ask, demands she needed to make, lies she had to break; the very humor inside the situation was so sickening, Kaori couldn't help but laugh. It was as if this whole ordeal had been one incredibly sick, hellish joke. There was nothing she could do, except ponder on that humor altogether, before tossing it aside, the punchline grotesque and disgusting in her eyes.

Apparently, Yasuhiko-san had a bad complication in the hospital in Sapporo. On the news , the reporters said that they'd move Yasuhiko-san back to Tokyo, to treat that complication. Out of all the hospitals they could've chosen, the doctors decided to send Yasuhiko-san to the very place they sent Mr. Yuuki. By the time the reports were over, Akira had just gotten out of bed, and when she came to school yesterday, Ken-kun didn't seem to know anything about it either, as did none of the school.

It was convenient.

She clenched her fists. She'd lost count how many days had passed, since she came into Yasuhiko-san's apartment, how many times she knocked on Megumi's door, trying to find the answers she was seeking, how many hours she sat in her room, asking herself over and over what'd happened, what'd went wrong, with Love on her lap, sleeping away the day. Natsuno was never at the cafe, and whenever she tried prying information from the police, they simply asked her to leave.

Slowly, she placed her hand on the door. Megumi's death certificate still raced around her mind, the anecdotes from Sotoba swirling across her brain. Maps and grids, along with experimental values she couldn't even begin to make out, were all there, beckoning her with their hidden scandals, their secrets emerging from that one, bright afternoon.

Aliens.

That's what Yasuhiko-san said, wasn't it?

She opened the door.

There he was, lying on his bed, staring out the window like there nothing was wrong. His blond, shaggy hair cascaded down his pale forehead, and that white, hospital robe clung to his skin. His warm, caramel eyes took in the morning light. Her eyes flickered toward the transfusion bag set near his bedside, as well as an IV which gave off a blurry, yet clear reflection of the room. Softly, she closed the door, causing Yasuhiko-san to turn, a soft, amiable smile gradually coming onto his lips.

He seemed…so honest, pure.

"Tanaka-san," he greeted happily. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, r-right," she said, as she came forward. She pulled up a light, brown chair next to him, and placed her hands on her lap. "Sorry. The news said you'd be here, and I thought I'd just…check up on you…"

"What? The news?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Wow uh…I didn't think I'd be…important," he fumbled, a tiny blush coming on his cheeks. "I mean, I'm…fine, I guess. They shouldn't do something like that. Wait, how's everyone in Sapporo? What-?"

"Everyone's alright," she reassured, as she reminisced the bodies on the television. "No one was hurt."

"O-oh," he replied. "Well, that's a relief then. Wait…_no one _was hurt?"

"Right."

"Except me."

She laughed. "Yeah. Sucks to be you."

He groaned. "Man, I knew I had bad luck, but I didn't think it'd be bad enough to _kill _me." He sighed then. "Oh well; can't do much about that, right?"

"Yasuhiko-san."

"Huh? What? Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to barf-"

"Why'd you lie?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I…went to your place the other day," she began, the hesitation filling her mind. She shook it away then, clutching the folds of her jacket with all her strength, so much so her nails dug into her hand.

Yasuhiko-san stared at her for a moment, before smiling. "I'm impressed. Did you put the key-?"

"That's not the issue!" she said then, causing him to fall silent. She stared down at her knees, trying to hold back her frustration. "Why'd you lie to me like that? Aliens? More like vampires!"

"Tanaka-san-"

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on? You know, I've already _met _Natsuno and Megumi! You don't have to hide anything anymore! Please, Yasuhiko-san-!"

_"__Tanaka-san-"_

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Tanaka-san!" he shouted then, the confusion entwined within his pupils. "What're you _talking_ about?"

Kaori narrowed her eyes. "You know what! Stop playing around! This is serious!"

"I _am_ serious."

And Kaori stopped.

He sat up quickly, the surprise so clearly etched into his face. "Vampires? Aliens? What'd mean? Is that like, I don't know, a game or something?"

She clutched her legs. "D-don't-!"

"And what's with the lying?" he continued, giving her a playfully haughty frown. "You know, I've never lied to you, besides the whole height thing. I mean, yeah, I did exaggerate a little, but it's not a crime or anything-"

And as he rambled on, Kaori caught sight of two, familiar puncture marks on his neck.


	90. Limerence

_Megumi_

I told him about them.

I told him.

And I don't think he believed me.


	91. Chapter 91

"Just relax."

"Right."

"And get plenty of sleep."

"Got it."

Even then, the nurse kept hovering over him, trying to find, at the very least, some other problem. However, after a few more minutes of pointless searching, she gave up, and sent him a reassuring smile. She gathered her clipboard from the edge of the bed, and walked out, all the while casting him one last worried glance. By the time the door closed, the suffocating atmosphere disappeared, and Haru sighed with relief.

Slowly, he sat up in his bed, grimacing at the broken parts his body lugged around. He carefully bit his tongue, trying to gulp down a painful howl, all the while looking back up at the door, making sure the woman wouldn't just suddenly barge in, else she'd give him another dose of anesthesia. He smirked happily when he straightened his back. See? He's got this.

He stared off at the whiteness of the room, the nonexistent patterns slowly swirling from across his vision. There was a small, somewhat vulnerable television in front of him, a tiny plant settled near the corner, a chair beside his bed, of course. The array of needles some doctor carelessly left in front of him was nowhere to be found, as well as the transfusion bags and that stupid IV he got sick of looking at. The curtains were open again, which was nice, though he wished he could change the view; after all, a parking lot wasn't all that special to look at.

He settled back into his pillow, and gazed at the shimmering dust. When he squinted, he could make out the tiny, unpredictable dance they performed around that warmth. It seems the janitors forgot to clean up here again; maybe they were too embarrassed, since he'd be watching them, or maybe they were just trying to give him some space. Either way, the dust was piling up, giving the already floating things more companions to lazily dance with.

He enjoyed watching them. He'd given up on watching anything else, for that matter. Yes, Tanaka-san did visit him most days, and he managed to make some small talk with the staff every now and then, but other than that, there was nothing else. Everything on TV seemed like an over exaggeration of reality, and whenever he tried watching somewhere else, that over exaggeration reared its ugly face in front of him, leaving him with only useless repetition. There was nothing those programs could show him that he didn't already know, nothing different or entertaining or profound. Albeit the dust waltzing in the morning and evening light, there was nothing he could observe without being bored out of his mind.

He closed his eyes then, his tired eyes calmly lulling him toward another dreamless silence. Right now, a lot of reporters and police officers were trying to see him, some demanding answers as to what'd happened at Sapporo, others needing a rational testimony for some conspiracy theories the crowds cooked up. Thankfully, the doctors managed to turn them away, but from the moment he gets out of the hospital, he knew he'd be fair game. After all, everyone was curious about the massacre, that much he knew.

What he didn't know, however, were the answers those people wanted to hear from him. Some kept going on and on about the government, others about that terrorist group, Aum Shinrikyo. And still, people had these brash theories about the supernatural, something that dealt with monsters you would only find in some sci-fi horror movie. Those freaks kept going on and on about how every single person there was maimed, tortured, beheaded, anything at all that possibly came into their feeble minds.

Then again, it wasn't that hard to believe; the corpses they showed on TV certainly did seem that way.

Haru opened his eyes once again, the clock on the top of his head ticking endlessly at the seconds passing him by. As of this point, he didn't think he could answer even the most basic f questions. He didn't know why he was at Sapporo, or what he was doing there, buried beneath the pile of bodies. He didn't know how he got there, or what he'd been doing before that. The nurses thought it was some kind of traumatic amnesia, but Haru certainly didn't think of it that way. Still, if that's the only answer they could come up with, he might as well believe them.

When he first woke up, it was as if he'd come out from a long sleep. He was disoriented, the haziness claiming his mind, the sluggishness refusing to go away, even if he wanted it to. His limbs refused to move, and when he tried sitting up, he couldn't feel his body; it was as if everything was disconnected. Bright lights bombarded his vision, along with dark, red spots that sporadically entwined in his sight. There were people standing beside him, shouting, trying to get him not to fall asleep. A tiny beep resounded to the side of him, and when it started racing, they all panicked, attempting to force him to stay awake, if only for a few more minutes. A plethora of pain came crashing down on him; every breath in his body was forced out, his starved chest breaking down at the seams. His chest was hurting, and a burning sensation decorated his limbs cruelly. He passed out, and when he came to, he was in Tokyo.

Anemia, they said. For one reason or another, the stitches were coming undone, and casts were oozing with crimson due to all the thrashing Haru had been doing in his sleep. He kept murmuring something, but they couldn't understand him. Sometimes, he was shouting, other times whispering, but more often than not they ignored him. Of course, Haru was a bit embarrassed by the revelation, but at least, no one else had to see him like that. Better the doctors than anyone from high school, right?

Slowly, he turned his head, and caught sight of the books Tanaka-san laid out for him. He stared at them, the quiet permeating from around the air, before shrugging. He reached for one of the titles; _The Glass Menagerie, _it said in black, flourished letters.

When he laid the book out on his lap, he instantly saw a large, black folder, beneath the pile of books. His high school diploma probably; he asked Tanaka-san to bring it here, along with some other things he couldn't remember from the top of his head. He really had to pay her back when he gets out of the hospital; maybe they could go somewhere fancy, though of course, he might have to drag her there on a good day. Maybe a day in an amusement park, or out shopping? Yeah, that'd be a good idea.

He came back to, as he opened the book, and allowed his mind to immerse within the dialogue. The play was one of his favorites; the monologues were meaningful, and the characters were so thought-out, a testament to the sophistication the story effortlessly delved into. It reflected some of the unique aspects involved within the complicated Southern Goth genre, from the instantaneous disappearance of wealth, to the fact that everyone was trapped in their own illusions. He could just sit there, and read the characters' illusions over and over again, illusions that contrasted so sharply with reality, illusions he wouldn't have understood, if not for the shallowness he'd seen over and over again.

Dreams and shallowness, huh?

Slowly, he placed his finger in-between the pages, as his mind scanned over the words. He's read this so many times, from school, to out on the streets. He had no idea what would come from those delusions, though in the end, those thinly disguised lies would always shatter one way or another. But even after knowing that, people still lose themselves in those lies for some reason, and he hadn't the slightest idea why.

Take for example, his parents. They both had tuberculosis, though they've tried denying it over and over again. He tried getting them to go to a doctor once, but they kept saying they were fine, those frightening, genuine smiles permanently planted deep inside his brain. They kept ignoring that obvious fact, and through their stubbornness, they died.

Then there were the people at school. They hated Haru, probably because he was so average. They hated him so much they wanted him to die, but no one carried out their threats. They remained where they were, without touching him, without even stealing a glance at him from the sidelines. All they could do was just whisper their own lies, partly out of jealously, partly from the fact that they probably couldn't get away with whatever it was they wanted to do.

It happened to Hitomi too, right before she died in that car accident. That night, while they were walking, she kept telling him about how cruel people were, how merciless they can be. all the while hiding behind plastered smiles. She kept relaying over and over again that, even though she's done it too. He couldn't remember the details of that conversation, but it's not like that matters now.

As he read through the first act, quietly murmuring the words to himself with effortless ease, he couldn't help but ponder on the narrator. He cocked his head then, and he shifted his weight across the bed. There was something special about this one introduction, but he couldn't remember what. There was a certain strangeness to it, an abnormality that Haru could practically recite.

Yet he couldn't.

Why?

There were two people that suddenly came to mind. Two people he couldn't help but seek after, people he wanted to chase after. A boy, and a girl. He wanted to relay the introduction to them, but he couldn't. He didn't know why.

"I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion," he murmured quietly.

He did this over and over again, until the physical therapist came in, and he had to put the play down. Even then, as Haru walked out of the room, he couldn't help but keep glancing back at that tiny book, with those two people staring him from the empty space in front of him.

* * *

Quiet, shuffling noises echoed throughout the cafe, along with a stream of cheerful customers now indulging in their evening snacks. Delicious aromas weaved through the air, some food, others drinks, all of which gave off a warm, comfortable feeling of melancholy. Remnants of nostalgia embraced the customers' somewhat vulnerable footsteps, the sounds clicking by as they went about their day. Vibrancy diffused through the air, creating a sensible excitement no one had seen in a while, even if it was still a bit cold outside. Swirls of evening floated through the cafe, giving off a somewhat neglected atmosphere, but when fluorescent lights flickered across the room, that liveliness continued, the neglect disappearing along the midst of the customers' weariness.

She looked around the somewhat oblivious crowds. Her hands held fast to her coat, as she peeked out from her bangs. Some had drinks in their hands, whether it be chocolate, or milk, perhaps some tea, while others guilty hid the snacks they planned on devouring in those dark alleyways. Many were relieved at sitting down at the tables, and yet, only a few bothered to remain in the cafe, even if it was to just scarf that food down. They sat across from companions, acquaintances, employers, even empty space, just for the small joys of the dissipating tension racing away from their systems. She kept staring at those people, and recalled the familiarity of those feelings.

Kaori blinked, before turning away. Slowly, her gaze dropped to that simplistic table, as her hands clutched the files in her lap, all the while playing with her furry, white sleeves. Long jeans covered her legs. Towards the bottom were her regular sneakers, which were coated with mud and water.

She'd been running again, running to and from both her house, and Yasuhiko-san's. Usually, when she stopped by his apartment, it was because he asked her to get something from that small bookshelf, and take it to the hospital. College entrance exams were coming up, but he didn't know where he wanted to go; hopefully he'd find something in those books, something that, if anything, would help him make up his mind. He'd already gotten his diploma, and it'd be a waste to just let it sit there, on that desk near him.

It's funny. He looked so at home there, in that hospital room, more so than all the other times she'd seen him. It was as if he was safe, from everyone, from everything that could've possibly hurt him. Nothing bad ever found him when he lay there, in the afternoon light, and when he looked at Kaori, he simply smiled an old, friendly smile, one that appeared more human than anything she'd seen during the past months.

It was disturbing.

Kaori asked Yasuhiko-san if he remembered talking with her about Sotoba, or the young designer both he and Kaori got to model for. She pressed him about Megumi's death certificate, for Ken and Akira's accusations, for Natsuno's strange, ominous advice. Yet he'd keep shaking his head, with that goofy grin on his face. It was scary, how easily he managed to brush off everything; they talked about everything else, but the shiki that seemingly just waltzed into his life, had seemingly disappeared from him altogether.

But she could recall the marks on his skin, marks that looked so much like the villagers that'd died before him, marks that'd haunt her every time she closed her eyes. She almost expected him to die after a few days. However, after a simple blood transfusion, Yasuhiko-san recovered after a few hours. He was still human, still alive and breathing. The only things that'd changed were his memories.

Numerous times, she went to Omotesando, if only to try and get to Natsuno, or even Megumi. She tried calling the lobby of the apartment complex, but it seemed they were never there. She kept going to the cafe twice a day, but she'd been doing it for so long now, she'd be surprised if Natsuno actually shows up. Even when Kaori started walking Love at night, with the improbable hope that she'd run into them on the streets, there was no such luck. Kaori was getting desperate, but at this point, she might as well have abandoned her pursuit altogether.

Her eyes strayed to the entrance near the cafe. After everything that's happened, they can't just suddenly leave. What about Yasuhiko-san? What about her, and Mr. Yuuki, and Akira? What about those things at Sapporo, and the fashion company? What's going to happen, now that everyone's seen those creatures?

Kaori could still remember how hard Megumi cried that day, as well as the words Natsuno spoke to her as he kept watch over her. She could feel those two slipping away from her grasp, off to an uncertainty she was scared of, a darkness she couldn't delve into.

"Kaori."

She looked up.

He was wearing an old, checkered jacket, with a white shirt underneath. Dark pants came down his legs, along with a silver chain that clung to the side of his pocket. His pale skin contrasted to his eyes' blackness, the hazy fragments of purple shrouding his pupils.

Confusion flickered across his expression, before being replaced by a solemn, unreadable light, one she'd given up reading sometime ago. Slowly, he came toward her then, his silent footsteps giving way to maddening echoes from across her eardrums. He stopped a few feet away from the table, as he placed his hands in his pockets. He stared down at her expectantly.

Kaori bit the inside of her cheek. He's here.

_He's really here. _

"What're you doing here?" Natsuno asked.

She fought down the urge to slam those files on the table. She took a deep breath, and looked up at her friend. "It's Yasuhiko-san."

He narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"

"He doesn't remember anything."

He stared at her for the longest time with those blank eyes. Finally, he turned away. "And?"

Kaori could feel her own lips part, the revelation shaking her core. She clenched her teeth, as she placed the files on the table, with Megumi's death certificate on top. She kept herself from trembling, trying not to seem like the fragile, terrified girl back from Sotoba. She took a deep breath, and stared up at him with resolute eyes. "He had these in his room," she said quietly.

"I see."

"Before winter break, Yasuhiko-san asked me about Sotoba. I told him everything I knew."

He returned her gaze, and closed his eyes. "Fine."

"He also told me to stay away from Sapporo."

"How nice."

"But when I checked the news the other day, those things were there. Those things…attacked me and Megumi, right?"

He didn't answer.

Kaori could feel herself wavering; he wasn't going to tell her anything, that much she knew. But she couldn't get Yasuhiko-san out of her mind, couldn't stomach the fact that there might be more of those things moving around. If she had, she would've conformed to the confines of this city.

So she continued, trying to assert herself as Megumi had done a countless number of times. "Before, when you said Megumi was waiting for me…that was a lie, wasn't it?"

He turned away.

Kaori blinked, before looking down at the floors, which reflected back what little dust it managed to accumulate. "You know, I'm not asking because I'm worried about you; I just don't want anyone else getting caught up in any of this. It's bad enough Yasuhiko-san got involved, my brother and Mr. Yuuki too."

"And don't forget Mr. Hitoshi and Mr. Saito. Out of everyone I've ever known, they didn't deserve to die. They _shouldn't _have died."

"Kaori-"

She looked up. "I don't get it. Don't you care, about what'd happened to everyone? Are you really that coldhearted?"

His eyes found their way to hers, the cool indifference neither giving way to relief nor sorrow. Everything was hidden beneath those cold shadows his own face embraced, the deadness of his eyes slowly coming undone from whatever senseless pain both he and Megumi caused.

Carefully, she shifted through the files. She laid out the datas, the sheets, and everything else she could carry in front of Natsuno. "Can you at least tell me what Yasuhiko-san was doing? With all of this?"

"He was interested in Sotoba," Natsuno stated quietly. "That's all."

"He said he was doing some research," Kaori said. "He told me he thought aliens were invading. I don't think a small village in the middle of nowhere, would have anything to do with it."

"If that's what you think, then fine."

It was so…_painfully _obvious.

"I know you're lying," she stated. "Something bad happened, and Yasuhiko-san got caught up in it. What if this kind of thing happens again? What if-?"

"It won't."

She clenched her teeth. "I don't believe you."

"Kaori," he suddenly called. He took one step forward, the darkness underlining his features. His purple, piercing orbs showed then, illuminated by the slightest crimson near his eyes. "When you and Shimizu met that day, what'd she say?"

Anger bubbled inside Kaori's stomach. "What does _that _have to do with anything?"

"Just tell me."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"This has nothing to do with you," he replied in an equally harsh tone. Swiftly, he removed the files from the table, and tucked them under his arm. "Even if a few people got caught in the crossfire-"

"Those _people _were my friends!" she suddenly screamed.

The cafe quieted then. Curious eyes instantly peered at the two, the conversations ending the moment Kaori opened her mouth. She was well aware of the attention she received, along with the whispers erupting from around the room. However, those rumors won't make it to school, and by tomorrow, the entire incident would vanish the moment morning came. That's how it works in the city, and it was through that Kaori stopped caring about humiliating herself.

Natsuno stole a brief look at the room, before sighing, and turning toward the girl. Quickly, he grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the table. Her eyes widened at the seams, and when she started to struggle, his grip only tightened. She bit back a hiss, as he towed her outside, the files in hand.

The cold air beat down on her quite easily. Streams of bodies passed her as Natsuno carried on. Her fingernails tore at his skin, trying to pry away his fingers, if only to escape his iron grip, even for a moment. He only tugged her closer, the same, solemn expression upon his face. She was about to open her mouth again, when he turned a corner, and dragged her away from the busy streets. He let go of her, causing her to stumble away from him.

"W-what-?!"

"Something happened," he said darkly. "And she's your friend too, isn't she?"


	92. Chapter 92

She stared out at the ruins around her, the midst of the moonless night shrouding the rust and decay. The scent of mold quickly diffused throughout the air, entwined in neglect as formless silhouettes raced across the floors, probably animals with nowhere left to run. Dangling shards of glass desperately clung to their frames, trying not to plummet to the darkness below, all the while reflecting her empty gaze with perfect ease. Wind and rain carried away whatever was left of that building, the fire having long since vanished from everyone's minds.

With one, deliberate step, she strolled through the hallways, surveying the crumbling debris. Any day now, this entire building will come crashing down; cobwebs, steel, iron, trinkets, and everything else unlucky enough to get caught up in it. It was incredibly tall, so Megumi might just catch a bit of the fall. Who knows? Maybe it might even have one of those huge mushroom clouds everyone kept talking about. That's a pretty popular concept now, wasn't it?

And it's not like the government was going to anything about it; it'd cause too much of a commotion if anyone goes anywhere near it. It'd only bring back crude memories of the incident, as well as mysteries surrounding the fire. Besides, it's already old news.

As she wandered from room to room, her fingers grazed carelessly across the cracks, tiny, irritating cuts that peeked out from the bottom of her nails. She flickered her eyes toward her fingers for a bit, her pupils settling on the small specks of dirt lodged beneath her nails. She paused for moment, and tried to let those imperfections be. However, her instincts took over, and soon, she pried her fingers away from that wall, and flicked the dirt away. She squinted her eyes, before putting her hand to her side, and continuing her way.

Bethlehem Hospital.

Megumi remembered the hell that engulfed the hospital, the flames that coated their delirious lunacy with screams and crimson. Even in daylight, she could still point out the places where she'd dumped the gasoline, as well as the spot where she set each room on fire. A little cigarette bud here, another there, maybe even a bullet or two; it's surprising, how quickly everything burned. And all the while, she could see those people lying there, in their cages, their blood wrapped around her body like a harsh wakeup call. She could see both shiki, could see their horrific beheadings, their vanities shattered the moment her flaunted her harmless shallowness toward them. Even if they had realized what was going to happen, it was too late anyways; it's not like they could do anything at that point.

But she could recall how desperate Daiki seemed, how everyone in his syndicate solely depended on a person they've probably never even seen before. She reminisced on how devoted they were to their sweet Baroness, how utterly blinded they were to her legend, despite the fact she'd proven worthless in the end. Megumi could see them now, bowing before that girl in that cage, doing everything they could to appease her nonexistent orders, all the while blindly proclaiming their fears of her, even if she lay there dying. That girl couldn't do anything for them, aside from dancing with them to her own grave. Elizabeth; that's what they called her.

What a regal name that was. It was so sophisticated, so elegant, that Megumi almost asked if they actually knew they were being tricked by a sick man with his own, twisted ambitions. No permanence to society, nothing at all to secure him from going off the brink; only an illusion to keep the shiki from sinking beneath the world's cruelties. It must've been fun, living out that stupid dream. So it actually does happen in real life; what a unpredictable, yet amusing, surprise.

And it was through that surprise Megumi found herself here. This place might've seemed…safer, for some reason. Perhaps because all the villagers were outside that hospital, just waiting for her with their cold, dead eyes, or perhaps because it was quiet here. There were no piercing cries racing through her head, and aside from her footsteps, nothing rebounded through the halls. Remorse never found her here, and the only thing she could see in her mind were the crushed cages in the basement, and black. The fact that she actually saved both Yuuki and his dad also came, but the memory never stayed.

She remembered how simple everything seemed, how pathetically easy it was to turn against those syndicates. It wasn't like that with the Kirishikis, or Tatsumi, or even Yoshie. Maybe because she'd been doing this a bit longer, so she knows what to expect. Maybe it's because she'd gotten used to killing, the lines for even the morally upright blurring into a soft, hazy shadow, one without beginning or end. Maybe it was even because she could still seek out bittersweet pieces of her own humanity, though she'd forsaken those roots long before. The money didn't have anything to do with her defection; after all, when she destroyed the tunnels, she cut off whatever source of funding she thought she had at the time. She was even considering moving away from Tokyo, since it'd gotten so boring here.

Irony. First Tokyo, then Omotesando, and she'd even gotten to see a bit of Sapporo, but by then the scenery was the same. There wasn't much to do there, aside from tasting the same food, meeting the same people, avoiding the same threats over and over again. It'd gotten so droll by now she knew the excitement had died; there was nothing left but a place with big buildings, and people who took heed to seek out normalcy in the confines of change. Should she move to another country, just to stave off the boredom? Could she do that, with Miyuki's career? Probably not; after all, some of the critics, as well as many of the fashion designers, have all started to make fun of her too, and with the very same dialogue the villagers used.

And what about Yuuki? There was no doubt he was frustrated, though of course, he wasn't as vocal about it. Maybe he had it easier; he had the yakuza factions under his control, and even when he modeled, no one ever criticized him. Yet his reputation depended on Megumi's; one wrong move and everything could come crashing down. He's told her once or twice about the threats that cluttered his phone, along with the deals the loan sharks were trying to make with her. He also knew it was too late to correct any misunderstandings from before; by now, everyone associated him with her, so if she was being attacked, most likely they'd aim for him too.

Kaori, meanwhile, would be fine on her own. She's doing better in school now, and with everything settled, all she'd have to do is stay there, and study. Both Fawn and Toma were dead, and there hasn't been any stray shiki wandering through the city. Haru might go off to college, though with him, she couldn't tell what he'd do. He was smart enough though, and with the yakuza finally off his back, it seems he can live a peaceful, normal life.

She closed her eyes. She could still taste his blood dancing on her tongue, with the orders slipping out from her lips like a twisted, sorrowful lullaby. Haru's former desperation would make him latch onto order, so there wasn't much of anything anyone can do to persuade the boy otherwise. He needed to hide from reality, if only to preserve his own life and mind. There was no possible way he'd listen to anything Yuuki told him, regardless of how many times the two kept meeting.

She stopped walking, as Haru slipped from her mind bit by bit, those creatures around him prowling at her feet. She didn't need to look anywhere else; she knew they were there, claws outstretched, fangs covered in black. She could see them there, trying to, at the very least, accuse her for not joining them in the shadows. Their haughty expressions came with their own judgements, though, in the end, they refused to look at anyone, even themselves. It's as if all the shame and humiliation they suffered, was burning within the darkness, with Megumi as a witness. Every temptation they gave themselves to, every paranoid crime they surrounded themselves with; there was nothing left for them, aside from ruin and torment.

And she smiled.

Idiocy and stupidity, misery and torment; those were the crimes the villagers were condemned to.

But a part of her balked at the idea, a fragile part, which relayed every shred of guilt back to her. It kept talking about the village she lived in, kept pointing out her own, cruel sins, as it fell into their self-righteous act. It talked about the terrifying expressions they had on their face, their cold, indifferent gazes as they asked her to die. It screamed and mourned and begged, trying to stave off damnation, while endeavoring to keep away from scarlet. It did everything it could to try and appease then, if only to slip inside that maddening nightmare later on. There was nothing she could've done to stop it, nothing she could do or say to reason with that voice. And in the end, it croaked its last words, before shattering completely.

She stared off at the nothingness for the longest time, her dark, crimson eyes settling back along the lines of the calm. Her gaze darted here and there, from the abandoned corners leading from the entrance, to the descending darkness from the stairs below. Quiet seeped from the cracks, the slightest traces of ash now gone from her sight. She was there, when this hospital burned down, when she met Yuuki, in spite of the flame and heat and scarlet. She met him here, when he was coughing up his own blood, a testament to the poison society bequeathed onto him. And she saved him.

She did.

Would she have to save him again?

The night, when Toma attacked the fashion show, the night Yuuki seemingly disappeared from her sight, the night that creature came after her in Fawn industries, the night she saw it again, pursuing the chaos shimmering through that nightmare. She could see the turbulence swirling around her, the bodies falling before her, the pride wrapped around everyone's cool facade; all of whom that refused to abandon their acts. It was through that Megumi managed to see them.

All of them.

Questions kept pummeling her mind, interrogations that came through a veil of silence. Did they die by their own right, or did she kill them? Did they cry out for help, for safety? Did she do the same thing? Did they judge themselves, before judging her, or Yuuki, or anyone else who dared intervene? Did they act like the humans they were supposed to be, tempting their unbearable natures to their fullest, while stumbling across their monstrosities, simply because they believed they could do so, because they believed their ways were the only right ones?

Did they enjoy it?

What a stupid question to ask.

A familiar scent wormed its way through the building then. Megumi halted her thoughts, that same smile fading from her lips. There were old footsteps resounding throughout the halls, the quiet desolation echoing with each movement. She could feel that intruder's eyes searching through the hospital, hoping to, at the very least, see the vaguest form of her own shadow, underneath that moonless night.

Humanity, shiki; none of it mattered in the end, did it?

Carefully, she turned, the black shrouding her eyes once again. "Yuuki."

* * *

_He doesn't remember anything. _

That statement kept echoing through the back of Natsuno's mind. He replayed it over and over again, trying to make any sense of Kaori's shaken words, all the while endeavoring to push himself forth, in an effort to get himself grounded to the present. It seemed that, during that time, Kaori was an anchor for him, keeping him from drifting to whatever hospital that boy was staying at, to see if it was true. His coldness alone provided the assistance he needed. And yet, somehow, Natsuno couldn't make sense of any of it.

Moments from that night kept rewinding in his brain. He caught every single detail from those minutes, from the icy air, to the shallow graves surrounding his feet. Every stagger Haru made towards him, every lachrymose that came from his breath, his desperate obsession slowly purging the doubts from the corrupted atmosphere; but he was still there, crying out to Natsuno for an emotion he couldn't make out. The memory was there, embedded in the jinrou's mind. He couldn't forget even if he tried.

His brain kept going back to that odd dance, to Shimizu, to the blood diffusing away from her body.

He couldn't understand why she'd done it, why she decided to cut off his ties with the both of them. He couldn't begin to comprehend the words she'd spoken that night, as well as that vulnerable mirror he keeping seeing time and time again. Emotional and emotionless, with nary a friend to keep in sight.

What would've happened, had he let her go?

_She's your friend too, isn't she? _

That stubborn clock chimed again. Even though it was far away, he could still hear its distant rings, the cold dissonance coming together for one last, melancholic symphony, before dying away again.

Midnight.

Kaori never denied her friendship with Megumi. Even now, with all the things she's put that girl through, Kaori couldn't afford to abandon her. That contradiction was what saved Kaori so many times, what led Megumi to try and salvage whatever unreasonable feelings she had left, delusional or not. It was that aspect Natsuno found strange, but all the same, it was that idea which kept Megumi aloft. The idea that people had actually supported her, that, though she's committed the worst of sins, she still managed to find her own little clique in this silent, harsh reality. He didn't think she'd let go of them, any of them. Not Haru, and not Kaori either. After all, Haru was just as much a friend to her as to Megumi; hurt Haru, and she hurt Kaori too.

Crying.

That's what Kaori told him.

She was crying that day.

Blurs past by him as he kept on, Shimizu's scent becoming stronger with each step he took. He narrowed his amethyst eyes, as he searched the ever-changing darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of a girl that couldn't have been there. He searched for that shadow, before moving onto a different spot, the city lights growing fainter as he stole away from the quiet. Not Shinjuku, nor Omotesando. She hasn't come anywhere near Haru, and she didn't bother stopping by Kaori's school. It seems she wasn't feeling too sentimental either, considering he didn't find her in that old, abandoned building in that forgotten arts district.

Perhaps that's how he ended up in front of her, in that lonely, abandoned hospital, aimlessly searching through the darkness. Perhaps that's how he stood there, unfazed by the emptiness her normally lively atmosphere exuded, his frustrated curiosity not shrouding his mind in the least.

She called out his name, but the only thing he could ask, was "Why?"

She turned to him. A flicker of sorrow came across her face, though it was replaced by yet another facade, one devoid of any sympathy or kindness. "Isn't it better this way?"

"We could've-"

"Could've what?" she pressed. "You've seen him; he was already breaking down. No one can live like that, especially not him." She stares at him for a while, before smiling. "I'm not feeding off him, if that's what you mean."

"It's not."

"Then what-?"

"It's not like you to do that."

She took one, delicate step toward him, and stopped. "Haru had nothing to do with the villagers."

"That's not what I'm asking," he answered. "It doesn't matter if you admit it or not; you were close to Haru."

"So?"

"And so was Kaori," he continued. "She told Haru everything she knew about Sotoba. You should've known that if he forgot, she'd notice."

A painful quiet erupted between the two, the tense moment slowly easing between their frames. She looked like she was about to say something, but she bit her lip, refusing to say anything. She gripped the edges of her skirt, her nails almost tearing of the hem, before she released it, and stared up at him again. "What else did she say?"

"She found our death certificates in Haru's apartment," he replied, as he clenched and unclenched his fists. "Along with everything he's been doing in Sotoba."

"Huh."

Natsuno regarded the shiki evenly, his eyes scrutinizing her from that small distance. She looked so hollow from here. There was nothing reflected in her eyes, and what little shown was only the tiny glimpses of red hidden from the corner of her corneas. "She wants to know what he'd been doing."

"Forget it."

"Haru _forgot_ us Shimizu," he snapped then, his patience wearing thin. "She's going to keep putting herself out there, unless you-!"

"The only thing she's worried about are those things," Shimizu hissed back. She stopped herself, and turned away for a brief moment. She composed herself then, and went back to Natsuno, who was expectantly waiting for her answer. "If those monsters disappeared, she won't have anything to worry about."

"What're you-?"

"Remember what I said, about going back to Sotoba?"

Yes, he remembered. He remembered how haunting those ruins were, along with the inhabitants who refused to leave him alone. He could easily pick apart those familiar shadows, those temptations swirling around a broken hero complex. He could see those deaths from the back of his mind, the very same ones that incited his sympathy and malice, all of which stemmed from that single night in the Suicide Forest. He examined her, before the realization dawned on him. "You want to kill the rest of the villagers, don't you?"

"I do."

Traces of tears scattered across his eyes, warm tears from when she tried ending her own life. Cold reflections gazed back at her in those unsightly manners, all of which were engulfed in an isolation he could barely pierce. _Sorry _was the first word he heard from her.

"Is it because of Kaori? Or Haru?" he heard himself ask.

She started to answer, but only silence came from her mouth. Mutely, she nodded, the lie so easily picked apart upon her face.

Natsuno came up to Shimizu, and stopped, a mere foot away from her. "If you're going to lie, then speak up."

"I…" she started quickly, trying to defend herself from his interrogation. Yet even that excuse left her, and she remained quiet. He peered at her domesticated pupils for a bit. He could still recall that feral gaze he often saw her with, those wild eyes dimmed by society and the like. "Before, you said it'd be alright. Did you mean Sotoba?"

"I did."

"You said you weren't going to ask forgiveness either."

She rubbed the back of her neck, while a tiny, painful smile tugged at her lips. "I remember that."

"I'll ask again. Why're you going to Sotoba?"

The chilly air blew through the hallways, the corridors providing a labyrinth for which it could hide. A sonorous howl blew from the window frames, all the while dark shadows scurried about, ignoring the two shiki as they scampered about in reality. Every cool color meshed together then, aside from the pale silhouettes who stood there, watching the world go by without them. After a few moments, she replied, "To fix Haru's mistake."

It was a sensible answer. After all, with everything that's happened, even he could understand how dangerous those creatures were, as well as the agonizing misery they suffered from. And Natsuno would've bought into those words without a second thought, had it not been for her the fact she looked away. "Then why didn't you tell me about it?"

"You didn't want to go," she answered stubbornly.

"I didn't think we'd find anything there," he said calmly. "I thought it was just another dead-"

"And the day after we found Toma, you asked me if I heard them."

He was about to answer, when he stopped, the memory slowly dredging itself from his mind. He covered her eyes that day, and pulled her away from the window, from the light peeking out from those sea of clouds. The villagers never came that day, and neither did Tooru. "I did. What of it?"

"I hear them."

"Shimizu-"

"I've already said it before."

"You think you can just forget them?" he asked quietly. "Even after everything that's happened, you think you can just toss them aside?"

"I can. Besides, you think we can just leave that village alone? If Haru hadn't screwed everything over-"

"We wouldn't be in this mess I know," he finished tiredly. He narrowed his eyes, and looked her over, the determination set in her eyes. "What're you planning on doing?"

She didn't answer.

"Shimizu."

"Can you do me a favor?" she asked silently. "And sleep for a while?"


	93. Chapter 93

I hated them.

Every time I walked out in that summer heat, wearing that same dress of mine, they'd always stare, and laugh. Their chortles mocked me, and their beady eyes recognized nothing in their peaceful illusions, all but for their unchanging demons, which stared them in the face. Their voices irritated me, and whenever they talked, I shivered. I didn't want to be anywhere near them. Not the neighbors, not my classmates, or even my own family. They were all just so stupid to me.

But Kaori was a new kind of stupid. She was so stupid I didn't even want to be around her. Even though we were supposed to be friends, that didn't mean she was exempted from my judgements. She was never classy, and she was always so sensitive to the wrong kinds of things. Despite the fact I kept pointing them out to her, for some reason, she'd keep forgetting. I once tried to fix her fashion sense. I kept redressing the crimes her entire wardrobe almost screamed, but of course, my efforts failed. So she remained as she was, annoying and bubbly, innocent, ignorant of all the exciting possibilities she was missing out on.

Was that a bad thing though, if she missed that excitement?

I guess not.

* * *

As I travelled through the twilight, my own silhouette a hazy blur amongst the shadows, I couldn't help but recall a single memory, hidden beneath the depths of my mind. A memory, a dream, a nightmare entwined in that same summer heat. It felt surreal; I couldn't tell if I was there or not. Was I standing in front of the crowds, being laughed at, or was I in the audience, laughing at a person I'm supposed to know? Then I squinted my eyes, and I breathed a relieved sigh. I couldn't help but look up then, and see the person there, the one the villagers were sentencing.

Who was that, standing there, in that pink dress, carrying that closed umbrella? Who was that, with black ribbons stuck in their ponytails, with those long, sharp nails, with that haughty smirk everyone wanted to tear down? Who was that, with those fake eyelashes jabbed above their eyes, with that subtle color grazed along their lips, with those trembling, rosette eyes that made me wonder if they were really as vain as the crowds made them out to be?

Who was that, I ask again?

Must be a girl; I never knew any guys who'd wear dresses. And from the way she's holding herself, from how she was trying exude elegance, to the painted smile plastered on her face, to the tension easily building within her frail muscles, she must be quite the actor. She's being polite, but she's thinking rude thoughts at the same time, snarking back at the crowds with a few choice words of her own. She's clutching her umbrella handle. She says she's busy. She'll talk later, but not now.

Yet the voices just kept going on, and on, and on, and on, until finally, that girl started breaking down.

I dredged up every, single, piercing moment, from where excuses turned to howls, insults to jeers, tension to stakes, and fires, and ash.

The umbrella in that girl's hand vanished, leaving but a bloody ax in her wake. Creamy, healthy skin turned sickly pale, and rosette eyes faded to black, with crimson pupils reaching out to the overarching darkness. Her pink dress burned away, the hem reduced to burnt orange, the color dyed red. Suddenly, malice overtook that girl's expression, rendering her speech useless, as she called out for a criminal none of us remember. She kept screaming his name over and over again.

And we ignored it.

Rumors started circulating around us. We kept up our condescending tone, all the while placing polite sneers on our faces. Traditions were being ignored, all because of one little girl. She's the one who did this to us. She's the reason all this happened. If only she hadn't been born, we'd still be here, with our assumptions and traditions. Mature yet immature, welcoming yet hateful, held together by the necessary contradictions we were taught when we were young…

The first victims we berated were the parents. They, after all, let this mess of a child continue on with her ways. If only they'd been stricter, sterner, maybe even crueler, perhaps we could've avoided this tragedy altogether. The mother was always quiet; she never taught her daughter how to be a good housewife, or even a halfway decent girl, considering the absurd way the child dressed. The mother was weak, lenient, trying to find allow the child as much freedom as she could in our village, without the slightest thought of the consequences that would come forth. The father, on the other hand, was loud, never disciplining the child to be obedient to the elders, or to any authority figure, for that matter. He was blinded, too selfless when it came to dealing with the brat. If only he kept her inside, and had become the domineering parent he was supposed to be; if only he had been a bit more selfish in regards to keeping his daughter in the village…

No, it seems she wasn't listening. She was going on and on about "the city", about how she was living out her dreams, about how happy she was, not being in the village anymore. She kept on with her job as some kind of hot-shot fashion designer, and how successful she was without us, all of which fueled the crowds.

This girl didn't understand the gravity of what she'd done. She couldn't even begin to comprehend the suffering everyone here was going through. All she could think about was herself.

How shallow.

How petty.

How spoiled.

How_ disrespectful._

_This girl is only a burden. _

Someone was clawing their way to the front. A girl, it appears, around the girl's age. We all step aside and let her through, as we acknowledge the same, guilty pleasure coating the lights in her eyes, along with a familiar, scheming smile we all entertained ourselves with. No, it didn't occur to anyone of us to dissuade the brat up front, screaming back at her protests with her own liveliness. Her words never bothered us, and never once did we even consider the aspect of welcoming her. She was a threat, but we didn't want her to just leave; that'd be like surrendering. We needed something more, something that kept her grounded to this hell of a village, that excruciating face of defeat clouding her mind. We needed that girl to bring this brat down.

And we watched Kaori do just that.

But that dream had already passed from my brain.

I come away from that abandoned hospital. I take one last, long look, the remnants of the massacre still seared into my brain. If I listened closely, I could hear those animals scurrying about, trying to find a way out. I could hear the hollow winds singing through the rusted hallways, with tiny chunks of debris eroding away from the ledges. I could hear the silence play out its dirges from the background, the noiseless muse giving away its tarnished melancholy.

And if I close my eyes, I could even hear the slow breathing that passive, beautiful creature, who was bleeding on the floor.

* * *

I couldn't think of any reason why we were there together, other than sheer coincidence. Something moved inside the darkness of that building, claws outstretched, ready and willing to kill, if only for the chance of stealing the warmth of another. There was Kaori, who kept trembling in that weak, irritating way of hers, whose shaky breath made it all the easier for her to track down. I could practically feel her heartbeat that night, that loud pulse resonating through my eardrums. I heard it. I heard her.

And I remember her from my dream.

She was so different, from the girl from before. She couldn't do anything for herself, and whenever she did she just got herself into more trouble. The last time she tried to save my life, she nearly got killed herself. The only notable thing I remembered were her whimpers, her tears, the way she cried quietly for help, even though she knew no one was there, waiting for her in the black. But someone was, I think. I jumped in front of that thing to save her.

But I don't know why.

Did I save her, because she was my friend? Was that why I watched out for her as I did, saving her from Toma, from Yuki, from that monster? Was that why I kept asking Yuuki about her, about how she was doing in school, at home, whether or not she and Haru had been together day after day? Was that why I kept making the dresses as they were, designing and redesigning to only fit her, and her alone? Was that why I kept away from her, why I couldn't bring myself to say anything, why I avoided the situation altogether? Was that all this was? Because she was a friend? Was it really that simplistic?

No.

Friendship probably never even occurred to me.

Then was it because of Yuuki's threat? He did care a lot about the Tanakas, especially since they were living with his dad. And aside from Haru, it seemed Kaori really did loosen up whenever she was with Yuuki. How could she not, when he kept relaying so many insignificantly precious details to me about the conversations they've shared? She was also honest, and that made her very naive, vulnerable to the whims of the world. If anything, perhaps I would've killed her, had it not been for Yuuki.

But that didn't seem right either.

And I feel their stares boring my back.

Those same beady eyes, eyes that stared at to me from and within the crowds, eyes that judged every single event that happened, without even the slightest mention of the nightmares they faced. Those same faces, faces that laughed at their freakish society, at the change that was so necessary to everything around them, at the repetitive patterns that they somehow still couldn't memorize. Those same words, which coated their rumors with self-righteousness, which illustrated even the darkest, sickest parts of human nature, as they went on with their business, poking fun at problems they shouldn't have even touched, serious problems they couldn't possibly hope to comprehend. I felt their stares, and I froze.

It was them.

It was _always them. _

I can still remember our screams from that day, our frustrations pouring from our lips as we regarded each other hopelessly. It seemed we somehow bottled up all our complaints and flung them at each other, our petty insults giving way to more serious accusations. I don't even think I remember what I said to her, at that time. I know I said many things, a lot of stupid things I shouldn't have said, along with tears that shouldn't have come out.

But there was one thing I knew I should've made clear to her, that friend from long ago.

_I saved you, _I'd begin,_ because they were watching. _

And after that, I'd smile, and I'd tell her that if the villagers weren't there, I would've killed her.

I would've killed her on a whim.

* * *

Yuuki was different. Unlike Kaori, he wasn't tied to the village; in fact he wanted to leave, just like I did. Even before this mess even started, that was the one thing we shared. I savored that connection, since it was practically the first time he even looked at me. I could still remember those feelings of jubilance happily swirling around me, my hyperactive imagination taking hold of those childish dreams of romance and sweets. Even if he never talked with me, or found me annoying, or ripped up my card and tossed it away, I don't think I mourned over those moments.

None of them hurt like they did now.


	94. Chapter 94

I loved them.

I missed their mundane conversations, how they left themselves out in that vulnerable, afternoon sunlight. I missed how they'd always go out of their way to talk with me, how they'd call my name, my real name, not some persona I'd invented long before I knew what I was doing. I missed how they'd argue about idiotic things that had absolutely nothing to do with reality. I missed those stupid, nostalgic festivals that took place every single year, the way the aromas of every candle entwined within the atmosphere, the low silhouettes dancing their kagura dances.

I missed Kaori, and the stupid way we used to talk with each other. No matter how annoying she got, or how backwoods her sense of style became, or even how she kept calling for me, though I wanted to be left alone; in the end I still missed her. I missed my parents, the jerks, missed my classmates, maybe even the strangers who'd smile at me, instead of look down at the ground and hurry off to yet another unsuccessful venture.

And perhaps the one person that reminded me of all of that, was Yuuki.

What'd he feel, when he asked me if I heard them? Scared probably, though I've never seen him tremble. Confused, frustrated, any other emotion I'd forgotten to list out. But of course, I could be wrong. Like me, he never really was an honest person, and I'm the one who first started this spiral to madness; how could I know his thoughts and actions, those tiny tidbits of emotion that came with it, especially with all that's happened? Should he hate me, for what I did? Should he have some regard for me? Should I expect him to, at least, love me, even if it was just only for one small fraction of a second? What'd I expect from him? What'd I want him to do?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop, even when I caught that unmistakable glimmer in that sky. My body kept moving, though stars above were fading, and the moon was going down. Footsteps pounded against my eardrums, and that same, dreadful heat poured onto my skin. I could feel myself burning up, and when I finally paused, my instincts kicked in. Primitive fear drove me to the shadows, but I continued on, ignoring the fatigue and the aches and tension building within my muscles. I could already feel the flames coating my limbs, desperately clawing away at some pent-up guilt I hadn't known had existed.

But it doesn't matter.

Yuuki was going to wake up soon, and Sotoba's still a long way's off.

But my body forced me to stop. It sunk back into whatever darkness it could, trying to find cover as the sun peeked its ugly glare out. I involuntarily winced, as my eyes clouded to black. That dreamlike headache raged against my brain, and I succumb to that slumber. I couldn't tell if I was awake, or sleeping, but when my arms fell to my side, and I collapsed on that cold, hard ground, I knew that was it for the day.

* * *

I couldn't even begin to describe how relieved I was, when I found out Yuuki was alive.

Back then, I wouldn't have let him die. Even if he begged me, or tried putting a stake in my heart, or even just refusing to feed, I would've found some way to keep him on this earth. I didn't care what'd happened to me; Tatsumi was dead, after all, and I was free to do whatever I wanted. I wasn't going to be punished for anything, whether the deeds be good or bad, and the thought that Yuuki might've even retaliated never crossed my mind. I was desperate.

But of course, that delusion didn't last long. Yuuki hated me, and the only person I even considered a friend was Haru. With everything that happened, the only reason Yuuki and I even stayed together was because of him. I cared for the boy enough that I was fine with the arrangement; as long as we kept our secrets, and no one ever said anything, Haru wouldn't have to get involved with the drama.

That bit me in the ass later. That dream haunted me, and whenever Yuuki asked me something, complex or simple alike, I couldn't find an answer. I couldn't find a sentence that satisfied my curiosity, or Yuuki's, for that matter. None of the words that came out of my mouth made any sense, and even when they did I could only contradict them later. Sometimes, there was innocence, while other times, vanity. And even still, every subtle feeling came across my tone, my face, how I drew the dresses. Even in daylight, it seemed there was still some gaping hole in my mental state, a weakness I had no right of knowing or getting rid of.

Yet I managed to cast out this mindset for a while. I concentrated on the future I accidentally stumbled on, along with maintaining that protectiveness I had over Haru and, to some degree, Kaori. I was a designer at a big shot fashion company, and if I worked hard enough, I'd be able to move up the ranks. Those were the acts I'd made up; Miyuki, the rising star in the fashion world, and Megumi, the shiki some stalker was after. I was really good at it too.

That act started falling apart after the company fashion show. Suddenly, all I could think about was designing clothes, dealing with spoiled, foreign models and pop stars; there wasn't really a serious moment when I thought about catching our stalker. It seemed normalcy finally caught up with me, though at this point, I'm starting to doubt that. Getting caught in the moment wasn't something I had in mind, and neither had Yuuki. After all, we had friends to watch out for, family we needed to avoid. The cracks were already there, and it only took so long to shatter the illusion.

I was attacked at Fawn's company, as was Yuuki. He never told me about what happened that night. Though he kept up with his attitude, I think we got closer, if only for a bit. He sought after me in the dark, and though he never said a single thing about it, I couldn't help but wonder what he wanted from me. After thinking on that for a little while, I cast the thought out, and continued on with my acts. I've already consented to the fact I had no right to touch him. There was no way I could give anything to him now, nothing at all I could do to not remind him of my stupid mistakes.

Those mistakes vanished when I tried saving Kaori. The thought of her dying in that place irritated me. I imagined her innocent eyes lying in a pile of corpses, all of whom were too decent to run for their own lives, her crippled frame drowning in their own misery. I remembered how annoying she could be, how childish she was whenever she had to choose, how easy it was to scare her into submission. And I figured a girl like that shouldn't even be here to begin with. She belonged somewhere else, somewhere with light and butterflies and enchanted squirrels. She wasn't supposed to see any of this, and I bought into that realization.

When we fought that day, I couldn't help but remember the bruises around her neck. I thought maybe that villager, that monster, flung her around. But of course, if it did that, I don't even think she'd be alive right now. No, the marks were made by hands, small hands, hands just like mine.

I thought about asking her what'd happened, but I got caught up in my own emotions. I did all the things I thought I should've done, and gave her the same kinds of reactions I figured she'd want to see. She hated me, right? So it's only natural she'd want me to cry like that.

And in the end, it always came back to Yuuki. Unlike Kaori, who ran back, he stayed with me. He dragged me away from that window, and covered my eyes. He told me not to look at any of those ugly things in life, simply because…I guess because they were just too tragic to look at.

I could never really tell with him.

* * *

A couple of hours ago, I moving again. From the corner of my eyes, I caught the slightest traces of burns on my icy skin that were already healing. I shrugged the wounds off, and stood, before coming toward a familiar sea of lights shimmering ahead. I stare at them for a while, then fight down a disgusted frown.

A countless number of stores pass me, some with crowds inside, others outside. A few girls kept pointing out a few of the dresses, all the while joking to themselves how pretty they'd look in them. There were boys too, all of whom were surveying the audience in front of them, trying to get a better view of who they'd have a better chance at dating. I felt their eyes boring my back, their fateful pupils urging them to come forth. When I look back, I still see them there, with those hopeless expressions. I simply turn my heel, and continue on.

It's all the same; the colors, the lights, the shadows. The only thing that really changed was the fact that guy was no longer there, the one the syndicates were after, the one I stuffed beneath a desk and forgot about. His body was found, so now someone else was probably managing the store. I doubt anyone would go in, considering how many rumors circulated around that death. I think now the only reason why anyone was going inside was because Shakunetsu no Bara released their latest clothing brand, one with Miyuki's label on it, along with a few choice designers from far away. I think back on that time, and I keep going, unwilling to stop at a droll place like that.

There was Haruma, and that child too.

The dresses here were still the same.

I didn't understand that concept; so many things have happened, things not even I could get around.

Kaori, her classmates, and even strangers got caught up in this. Then there was Haru, who turned out to be the unwitting antagonist of this story line. Even Mr. Yuuki managed to get wrapped up in the insanity, locked up in a cage, in a basement of an asylum that couldn't even devote time to nursing their emotional demons. Girls whose names I can't remember anymore, strangers that made little difference in the grand scheme of things, bystanders I don't think I'd ever recall the faces of; they were all there, just waiting for fate to toss them aside. There were familiar faces, with the same, terrified screams and fearful expressions, their hearts pounding to the rhythmic chaos in their chests, their pulses raging through their veins, filled with adrenaline and panic. If I close my eyes, and think back, I can still hear them, sounding very much like the shiki I left behind.

The designers at that company always bothered me, even after the massacre. Their faces weren't natural; they didn't care about their lives, didn't understand the concept of surviving, of thriving, even though they were supposed to. Even Haru's monsters carried those basic principles with them, even if they had to submit to one of the fallen they'd do it. Neither tradition nor order mattered to them, during that time. Death was all anyone had on their minds; wanting to be saved, wanting rest, wanting everything a dead person could have at the time, was all anyone could think about.

And yet all my coworkers could think about was their routine. It was as if they were standing in some far off dream, carrying out their business as they usually would, without the slightest worry that someone was going to break them. They just stared at me with those eerie smiles, and gave me their thoughts. It was the most natural thing they could do, aside from running, screaming, inciting panic. They maintained their professional attitudes; their minds weren't broken, and though I envy it, at the same time, I didn't.

Even now, I don't know if I tried to save them or not. If I did, I wonder what that'd make me? If I didn't, would they still live in that world? Were they so torn away from life, that even when that illusion was crumbling before them, they'd still continue on, preserving their perceptions, without ever considering changing it for something else? Did they even see that monster? Did they see their lives rip away before their eyes? Did they need to see all of it, before I finally got a reaction?

No.

Then again, Haru was a liar too, wasn't he? He killed Fawn, and he killed Toma. He turned the villagers into monsters, and from his memories, he managed to convert Sotoba into a place where he thought Yuuki and I would be safe. He thinks he had everything figured out. We were free to go wild as shiki, to cast off chains humanity forced upon us, and become monsters. We could do whatever we wanted to, and as long as we remained beneath Haru's watchful eye, no harm would come to us. He'd protect us, no matter how sickening and twisted his ways were, no matter how much we protested, or how screwed up we were on the inside. He'd follow us anywhere, to hell and back, if he could.

He wasn't expecting us to be obedient. He wanted us to remain who we were, even if we'd become the monsters he'd been expecting. As long as we kept up our relations with him, he'd do whatever we wanted him to. Hell, if we asked him to destroy Tokyo, I'm sure he would've found a way to do so. In fact, when he started working on Sotoba, he'd already been exploiting his connections with the yakuza. Of course, they'd never seen him before; he only needed to give them Asaka's name, and that was that. In his mind, his mother didn't matter.

The midnight air kept glossing over my skin, as I kept on with my thoughts, the hesitation eroding from my eyes. My brain goes back to Haru and those designers, and I laugh to myself.

It's so obvious.

The reason why I smelled Tatsumi back then, in my company building, was because that _thing _was him. Haru probably just got Toma to sneak in and reuse some of those parts. And as for why those designers were so mute…I guess it really was because they were waiting to die, Mr. Murakami too. Any normal person would be screaming their heads off right then, trying to leave without the slightest care of attracting any attention to themselves. Haru used the villagers' corpses to make them too.

As for when he did it, and how…I haven't come up with that yet. How could he do all that, and sneak some of those corpses in, I don't know.

Maybe I will though, when I come to Sotoba.

* * *

In a way, Yuuki was the same as they were. He could tell what I was thinking, and if he wanted to, could bring me down in the most despicable of ways. He knew how much I cared for Haru, and how protective I was of Kaori; I knew he'd exploit those strings to keep me in line. He knew when I was lying, and it always seemed like he knew more than he should. Shadows always followed him, even during the evening, when the sun still clung above the horizon. He was always sitting next to me, thinking thoughts I didn't know how to understand, muttering scandalous words I never saw the sins to. Whenever he looked up, he swept it all away, the insecurities vanishing before my eyes. And when he smiled, he'd never let me see past that painted grin.

How innocent did he want me to be, I wonder? How high of a pedestal did he put me on? Was it anything at all like the crumbling failure Haru showed me, or was it something more? But then again, maybe it wasn't me he was trying to honor. Perhaps it was something else, like normalcy or society, perhaps even order. That seemed like a plausible thing he'd do, though he didn't like repetitive things, he can get by with patterns, even if those patterns weren't exactly the same. That's just how he is.

I ignore the soft ache underneath the silence, as I keep on, the familiar, mountainous aroma reaching my nose.

I wanted to tell him everything; feelings, insecurities, illusions I've thought up in an instantaneous second. I wanted to take back the convictions I had before, whether it be keeping myself alive, or staying away from him, or even maturing, just to see his reaction. I wanted to tell him about the childish fights Haru and I had gotten into, the doubts I had whenever I saw his face, the excitement at forgetting Sotoba when he gave me my career.

I wanted to tell Natsuno everything, but I didn't.

I sowed my lips shut.

* * *

Author's Note:

Final exams are finished. I got really good grades, so I'm happy.


	95. Chapter 95

The mountain ranges cast their gloomy, foreboding shadows along the edge of twilight. Black stared down at the formless silhouettes, just in the distance, the thick, stubborn branches blocking the view of whatever was left from the massacres. Flowers, both withered and unborn, were crushed beneath the wind's weight, the very essence of shallow beauty gone in an instant. Neglect entwined within the lonely atmosphere, as the harsh moonlight gazed down across the verdant scenes. Ruins upon ruins cast their reflections across the forgotten village, but all the while, she kept on, that same, emotionless face standing before them.

There was a fence surrounding the village, a big iron fence, with barbed wires coating every shadow around it. Traces of black covered inches upon inches of the metal, though rust mixed with a very unfortunate color. Scents of maple and pine embraced the surrounding air, along with the vague aroma of flowers that had scattered along the village, the bright petals drowning in the surrounding darkness. Mold coated nearby tree trunks, a testament to the winter's heavy rain, and though ashes were nowhere to be found, she could still see them there, buried beneath green and brown. She could see the nonexistent embers embedded near shallow graves, the sorrow coming undone between those corpses.

Her silhouette grazed the pavement, her dead eyes scanning through the shadows. Blurs of shapes past her. It was hard to tell whether or not she was walking, or running, maybe both, considering how quickly time passed her. And yet, all the same, when she squinted, she couldn't help but make out the finite lines within those blurs, along with those same, domesticated eyes she saw in Yuuki that day.

There they were.

The villagers.

As she passed them, arms to her side, the emotionless atmosphere entwining around her, she made out every single silhouette sitting by. Happy smiles, sad smiles, smiles sewn shut for one reason or another; those creatures, sitting there, smiling.

Carelessly, Megumi slipped through the fence, the barbed wire grinding against her cheek. She brushed aside the tiny, crimson droplets she left on the side. Her eyes evenly regarded the darkness surrounding her, without even the slightest recognition of the cruel gleam blinding her so easily.

Dark eyes flickered throughout the ruins. As she walked through the devastation, with the faded scent of rotten blood reaching her nostrils, she couldn't help but recall the familiarity even the dirt roads brought her. She followed that scent then, remembering the uncanny, tiny things she could only watch from afar.

She passed by an old, burned down shop on the side of the road. The once pristine, blue sign was charred, the white, kanji letters stricken down by whatever insults nature had to offer. Windows were broken, with tiny glass shards scattered around the residence. If Megumi squinted, she could even see pieces of colorless plastic broken off by the toys unfortunate enough to get caught up in the destruction. It took a while, but she remembered the place; it was the only business that actually welcomed tourists, though not many people actually passed by. Two years ago, in order to pay their bills, they actually opened up a babysitting service there; Megumi always saw tiny children playing across the side of the roads, the boys with rocks and sticks, the girls showing off their newest dresses their mothers made for them. The owner of that store was always giving out sweets; apparently, her daughter made too many of them every day. No one knew why, even when all the women complained about getting fatter.

Right beside that, was the liquor store. Like the tourist shop, it was ruined, filled with scents of abandonment and regret. The curtains were scattered about, and black seemed to cover every inch of it. The walls were crumbling away, and mold had long since overtaken any hospitality the residence had left to offer. Quite frankly, Megumi had never met the liquor store owner, aside from hearing his constant berates about the way she dressed, how different she was from all the other kids. But then again, he seemed to do that a lot to all the other kids, particularly to his own son. She knew, because she heard about it from her own father.

Her eyes flickered here and there, reconstructing the broken village with clear fragments her memories gave way to. That broken bench was where she'd see those old people gossiping, sometimes about the latest drama, other times about the kinds of recipes their neighbors were making. Over there, in that dried, cracked field, was where she saw those ladies cultivating rice.

There was a dead field nearby, the one with the crows and ravens flocked everywhere, the one where screeching insects were desperately endeavoring to squirm their way out from their predator's mouths, the one where the birds kept proclaiming their ecstasy and victory; that was the field that old man usually worked. He would ride his tractor there everyday, then talk with the ladies in the rice paddies. He tried talking with Megumi once, simply because she walked pass that field every summer afternoon.

And in that house, somewhat distant away from the farms, there was a family of five. Two parents, two boys,, and a grandmother. She remembered meeting them once; like the other villagers, they mocked her dress and attitude. However, from her parents she learned they were nice people, and like all the others, were closed off to new ideas. Still, they helped the village with a carpenter business they owned; once or twice they came to her own home to fix something.

Then there was downtown Sotoba. Whenever she walked through that street, it was always quiet, with small business owners tending their own stores, and neighbors greeting neighbors out of a sole desire to get acquainted. The few times they were actually busy would probably be during one of the autumn festivals. That was the only time she enjoyed herself, since the village was so bright and beautiful, and no one was actually staring at her, so she could dress however she wanted. The shrine, and especially downtown Sotoba were prone to whatever Megumi considered normal, and it was, admittedly, one of the things she looked forward to.

And yet, the memories vanished, the moment those creatures appeared before her.

Or rather, she before them; they all sat there, empty eyes planted firmly to the ground, claws digging into their feet. Some were naked, others clothed; some coated in the very same blood she smelled from far away, and some yet still, enveloped by dirt and twigs and leaves and bits of decaying flesh here and there. Grotesque fangs protruded from the sides of their mouths, with black gums immediately taking hold of her attention. Emotionless expressions grazed their ruined faces, along with a certain hopelessness Megumi had come to understand time and time again. She stared at them for a while, before turning away, and continuing on.

That bloody scent pushed her forward, as she shifted through her memories, searching for any signs of where she might've recognized it. No, none from the villagers. Maybe it was one of the investigators; the reports did say a few had gone missing. Yes, that must be it; an investigator, a police officer, whoever was unfortunate enough to get involved with Sotoba.

Forests gradually overcame the devastation. Familiar instincts eased their way through her brain. She stared back at the trees, at the branches, at every twisted trunk she could make out. That's right; back then, whenever she and Tatsumi were hunting, they'd usually take this path, to avoid the villagers' prying eyes. Soon after, as more and more people rose up, she started leading them down the same way. Strange; the Purge should've left a few corpses here. Maybe Haru really did use them all.

But what was even stranger was the fact she could recall them vividly. She remembered each and every shiki that she looked after; big ones, little ones, strong ones, weak ones, and even the cry babies like Masao. She remembered hearing the laughter they shared together, the tiny, silly giggles that escaped from a few of them. She remembered how normal their smiles looked, how utterly, miserably _human _they seemed. It was as if normality had never escaped them, that it never even _occurred _to them that they were dead. Like everything they'd seen from their previous life, every tragedy that occurred, every happy moment that came before them, they had taken with them.

They remembered everything, she realized. They remembered everything, remembered their emotions, precious fragments from a past dream, and incorporated that new society into their midst.

The owner of that tourist shop was like that. As were the children, however creepy that might be. Most of the farmers were like that as well, as were the carpenters, and some of downtown Sotoba. Masao, and Tooru, perhaps even Nao, and Megumi knew she wasn't exempted…

It was just another society.

Village reflecting clans. Humans reflecting shiki. In the end, they were both only mere images of one another, simple extensions from one nature to the next. Whatever differences Tatsumi or the Kirishikis might've stated, or the doctor, or whoever else decided to get involved; superiorities, weaknesses, rules, exemptions, anything at all, was only a matter of trivial pride. There was no difference between human or shiki, none whatsoever. To preserve their societies, the sides fought against one another. They destroyed each other, if only for the vain hope of protecting something that wasn't even worth their time. Family, friends; all gone, if only to seek out their own beliefs.

She stopped then, in the midst of the cool, twilight air. The dark blue gazed down at her, the lonely stars everlasting along the edge of that atmosphere. The same sky, which she knew would callously watch everything down below, whether it be from the city, or in some small, rural village, which would stare down at every single moment, happy or sad, with that same look in its eye, which would stare down at both human and shiki.

Perhaps that's why the monsters were all just sitting here. They were watching that same sky, though their eyes were fixated on the earth. They were sitting there, thinking the same thoughts she was, with nary a noise to help them cry out, no comforting lullaby to race toward, no warmth to guard them against this chilly night.

What were they waiting for, those creatures? What were those villagers pleading for? And what of the shiki? And the owner from that tourist shop? The children from that daycare center? All the old people? The carpenter family? The business owners? The monks? Her classmates?

What did they want from this place?

What could they possibly lust after in this cruel, beautiful world?

But she didn't bother answering.

* * *

It seems Megumi was right.

That scent belonged to a recently slain police officer. Though his face was disfigured, and maggots were swarming in after that flesh, she could still see his uniform. He was probably looking for the fallen when he came here, or maybe to continue on with the investigation when it mysteriously stopped. Haru must've heard it from Toma, so he ordered the monsters to attack the poor man.

Ah well. He still had his lighter in his belt.

Quietly, she crouched down and plucked the two from his belt. She couldn't help but look up then, and see the birds finishing their meal in the fields. Slowly, she stood, as she watched as, one by one, they eventually thrust away their meals, already bored with the taste. Another minute or so, and they might come here, to feed on the corpse. She blinked, before looking back down, taking the silver cap off the lighter, and flicking it open.

The small, dim flame kept on with its flickering, its timid shadow surrounding her a silence she hadn't heard in a while. When she looked up, she could already see those creatures coming forward, hoping to share with her that warmth. Or maybe steal it altogether; she couldn't really tell with them.

She allowed them to come close. And as they did, she could see everyone there. People she gossiped with, people she insulted, people she fought with, people she fought for, people she took for granted, people who took her for granted, people she knew, people she never saw, people she laughed with, people she laughed at, people she cried with, people she cried for, everyone.

And just like that, she set them on fire.


	96. Chapter 96

Natsuno stared at the flames. He stared at the fire raging out off control, at the burning ruins and trees, at the wild silhouettes violently thrown back and forth, back and forth. He stared at the villagers, all of whom were just siting there, in their relieved quiet, ready and waiting to be taken by the hell enveloping the mountainside once again. He stared at their eroding limbs, at their bleeding organs, at their decaying veins, as one by one, they vanished, away from the pain, away from the torment. His eyes widened in shock, the emotions swirling around him.

And without thinking, he started walking toward those flames.

Where was she?

Piercing cries grazed through the smoky air. Tendrils of black and gray entwined together, the chaotic flare of the fire becoming more and more troubling as he attempted to come toward them. Vague shadows kept reappearing before him, some familiar faces, others faces he'd never seen.

Shallow graves were erected, the flames building tombs upon tombs. Frowns replaced smiles, as a few screamed haplessly against the searing pain. And yet primal instinct calmed those screams, the relief in their eyes breaking off the yarn Haru used to keep them silent. Pale, transparent skin grew blacker and blacker, the red cracks already breaking it into nothing. Bright orange embers erupted from the corpses, all the while the dust flew away from their makeshift prison, into the uncertain skies up ahead.

Shiki and humans, corpses and bodies; they were all burning.

And then he saw her.

Megumi.

* * *

She replayed those mindless conversations in her head. Over and over and over again, like a melody she couldn't do without, a design she would never leave behind. She kept whispering her own words, relaying to herself their answers. She could picture them now, all standing there. What were they doing?

What were they doing?

Condemning?

Accepting?

Gracelessly falling?

Funeral pyres shrouded her mind. The heat began enveloping her too. It was so hot.

Too hot.

And she's still holding that lighter.

No.

Someone else was holding it too.

She looked up, and found him standing there, that dim light masking his solemn face.

Natsuno.


	97. Chapter 97

He gripped her wrist, unwilling and unable to let go. Dark shadows nestled underneath his eyes, with his dark, purple bangs contrasting with his pale skin. Every emotion surfaced from his mind at that moment; anger, frustration, sadness, regret, shock, empathy. And with every second passed, the tighter he held onto those feelings, though in the end, only empathy remained.

And all the while, she sat there, her own hand loose, fragile, ready to break at any second. Like him, those same shadows remained under her eyes, although not quite as sinister looking. Her pale skin was a lovely compliment to the shell she dragged around, and yet, unlike him, there was nothing on her face, nothing at all. None to mark her humanity, her existence, the crimes against her weighing her down as they always would.

His eyes came down to the lighter, and carefully, tried removing it from her grasp. When she didn't let go, he brought himself near it, and blew the flame out. He examined her eyes for a brief second, before softly tugging her up.

But she shook her head, and turned away.

He blinked, then straightened himself. He stared out at the burning villagers. No doubt some were already cremated, yet the rest were just sitting there, ready and waiting for their own deaths to come. The strings have broken, lying forgotten in the dirt, and with that, the quiet was broken. Reassurance permeated from their deformed frames, and at that moment, they closed their eyes.

They were ready to leave, after all this time.

He turned back to her. Gently, her wrist slid from his grip, leaving only her fingers in their stead. They weren't trembling, and they weren't hot as he expected they'd be. They were cold, icy almost.

"We should go," Natsuno whispered finally.

Again, she shook her head.

"Why?"

"I don't want to."

His lips parted a bit. But as fast as the surprise came, it faded. He came in front of her then, the heat beating against his back. "Everyone's leaving."

"Then let them."

"Are you really going to die here?"

After a long pause, her gaze dropped to the ground. "I don't know."

"Why don't you know?"

She didn't answered.

From behind, he could hear the wood crack, the branches falling at the pressure of the flames. The winds were going to pick up soon; the fires were going to spread. It'd be just like last time, except seemingly everyone gets to die.

"And what about Kaori? And Haru?"

"What about them?"

"Why'd you hurt them like that? Haru liked you, remember? As did Kaori."

She shook her head.

"What is it?"

She murmured something, though her lips barely moved.

Natsuno leaned forward. "Megumi?"

"Nothing's changed."

Natsuno narrowed his eyes. "What-?"

"Kindness and shallowness, caring and uncaring, good and evil; what makes them so different from each other?" she asked in a hard voice. "Death has the final say, no matter what anyone else says. There's nothing to save us from it. Humans and shiki; they're the same too, aren't they?"

He couldn't answer, and at that moment, her body started shaking. "Nothing's changed. Everything's the same! There's nothing to separate filth from innocence, and even if there was those sins will spread! There's no stoping it, no matter what I do! Delusions, reality; it doesn't make any sense anymore! I don't understand it! I _can't _understand it! What am I suppose to do? Ask for forgiveness? Beg for acceptance? What am I supposed to do in that twisted mindset, but to follow their rules?"

She gripped his shoulders then, the maddening sorrow radiated from her voice. "I can't stand them! I can't stand _any of them! _They all remind me of those villagers! Every single one! I can't describe it! What's the use of joining a clique when you're an outsider? What's the use of belonging when you _know _you've destroyed your home?!"

Carefully, he folded his arms around her. The flamers were growing more and more. From the corner of his eyes, Natsuno watched each creature get up from their spots. They limped toward that flame, all the while ignoring he and Megumi. For a second, he pondered on them, at the finesse their graceless deaths provoked. Then he turned down, and hid her face against his chest.

"There's NOTHING!" she screamed. "What the _hell_ kind of ending is that?! What justice were we looking for?! Who were we blaming?! Everything got burned down…everything's gone and all I could do is _PASS ON THE DAMN REGRET! _I hated it! I hated it so much I wanted to _burn! _Even now, when those damn villagers are here, _dying_…!"

The cries stopped then, the words turning to incessant gibberish, as she buried herself. He felt something wet on his shirt then, and he only pulled her closer.

Warm tears.

Human tears.

"Whose to say whether they're the same or different?" he asks quietly, all the while watching those monsters going pass them, some he recognized, some he didn't. "The same people, the same attitudes, the same guidelines we all have to live by; what are they, really?"

He felt her chin against his collarbone, her dark eyes staring off at the fires ahead. But before she could gaze a second longer, he placed both hands on her cheeks, and turned her stare away from the flames. "Because with that reasoning, life and death should be the same too then, shouldn't it? Beginning and end?"

After a long while, she murmured, "It isn't like that."

"And how would you know?"

"I just do."

"That's not a reason. You should know that, better than anyone."


	98. Hiraeth

Sotoba's fire splattered all over national headlines.

Though police barricaded the roads, people from all over came to watch. trying to see the same travesty replaying over again. Firetrucks were busily quelling the flames, all the while dragging out what was left of what appeared to be bodies. Rumors instantly erupted from the site, from gang fights gone bad, to the village being cursed by ghosts, to zombies plaguing the surrounding area, to even a government conspiracy with illegal human experimentation. Even after a whole month had passed, people were still talking about it. If not for the bodies the reporters managed to get, people might've forgotten about Sotoba.

Haru was sitting at the cafe windowsill one evening, when someone came up to him and asked if he heard anything knew. Like always, he said no, and left the talkative stranger disappointed, to say the least. He could only stare after them for a while, before turning his attention elsewhere. Honestly, he was glad Kaori wasn't here; though no one here knew she was from Sotoba, he could imagine that uncomfortable look she'd have on her face.

He sat back in his chair. It's been three days since he'd gotten his acceptance letter to the university. He honestly didn't think he'd get in, but somehow, he managed to do it. He was probably going to go for psychology, or some counseling career; both he and Kaori knew what it was like to be bullied, so the career path was a given. Though he was a bit excited, a little sad maybe, in the end it was fine. And who knows? Maybe this was a good thing. Besides, he could always come back and visit.

As he watched the night go on in its entirety, he watched that well known clothing store from across the street go on with its business. It looked busy on the inside, that store, and the clerks seemed more than happy to entertain their latest customers. Laughing, crying, whatever came pouring out of those customers' mouths; it looked like Miyuki came up with another award winning design. She was supposed to meet with someone famous in America, wasn't she? It was all Kaori could talk about nowadays. He wondered if she was a fan of the designer, though he doubted that was the case.

And yet, he couldn't help but notice two people standing there, in front of that store. A boy, and a girl, both of which were around his age. They were both pale, so pale their skin shimmered in the darkness. The boy had purple hair, which descended from his shoulders. One hand was in his pocket, the others entwined around the girl next to him. He wore a simple, dark blue t-shirt, with black jeans to go with it. The girl, meanwhile, had long, pink hair that was tied in a single, neat ponytail. A black ribbon was tied around her neck, with a silver bell dangling from the back. She wore a simple, black sundress, along with sandals to go with it. Though she was a bit more hesitant than the boy, somehow,, she managed to relax a little. It looked like they were talking about something, but he didn't know what.

It's funny; seems everyone here was always moving, always was nothing wrong with it of course, but Haru found it a bit odd that someone stood by. In fact, it made them stand out, in more ways than one. In which ways, though, Haru couldn't really tell.

Then he blinked, and they were gone.

He couldn't help but wonder if he had seen such beautiful people before.

* * *

Author's Note:

-Hello, I'm the Seelie Court Jester.

-Thank you all for following Purgatoriu.

-The chapters after this will be side-stories about what happened after the original story.


	99. Tendencies

"Megumi?"

"Hmm?"

"Megumi, can you hear me?"

An incoherent sound came from the shiki's mouth, as she looked up, trying to get a read on her surroundings. After yet another failed attempt, she sighed happily, before dropping out of reality, slurring whatever song had come to mind. She giggled uncontrollably, all the while leaving her companion standing there in disbelief, trying to digest the situation altogether. Before long, the elevator doors opened, and he carried her out begrudgingly, attempting to make it the hotel room.

It all started with a little phone call. Megumi was supposed to meet with a modeling agency in Nagoya to talk about her new clothing line. Of course, the meeting was in the afternoon, so Natsuno had to come with her, and since the schedule was already jam-packed, there was nothing else either one could do but work. After a series of mishaps and almost strangulations, they finally reached the end of their long, working day, and they could finally return to Omotesando. However, the models wanted to invite Megumi out for a drink. They were all friendly, professional, but since it was their first time meeting the designer, they were diligent in forcing Megumi out for a drink. After days of stubborn persistence, as well as well-timed puppy dog faces, Megumi finally relented.

Now, Natsuno shouldn't have had anything to worry about. Vampires aren't supposed to get drunk; no, they _shouldn't _get drunk.

Somehow, Megumi _did. _

Natsuno sighed, as he fumbled with the hotel card. When he opened the door, he plopped the designer's body onto the bed, and sighed defeatedly, the smell of alcohol coming off from her. Because of this, they'll have to stay in Nagoya until tomorrow night, where, hopefully, she would sober up. Since it was near Christmas, a lot of the hotels were booked, so he was pretty lucky he managed to find one. What with the next fashion show coming up, along with the bustling tourist sites squeezing in last minute guests, it's surprising he could find anything at all.

He looked down at the wasted girl. She was wearing a simple, red blouse, with a black corset tightly nestled against her waist. A long, black skirt covered her legs, and those black, high-heels, the ones she usually kept tripping over, slipped off her toes. He turned around to examine the room.

The two beds were coated with mahogany, with a single, black lamp shared between them. A small, white desk rested underneath that lamp, and toward the front of the room was a large, flat-screen TV. There was a closet in the back corner, and the bathroom was nearest to the front door. A wide window lay to his right, giving him access to the city lights beneath. Both he and Megumi fed last night, so they should be fine for a while. He hadn't had any food in a long time though; room service would be nice-

He flinched, as he turned back, and saw Megumi's nails, digging into his wrist.

Natsuno sighed, as he took pried her fingers away. "You're really going to do this?" he asked frustratedly. "You've got a damn agency to meet up with…"

She just started laughing.

"Megumi."

And laughing.

_"__Shimizu."_

In one second, both her arms were around his neck. He was suddenly flung to the bed, his head narrowly avoiding the dashboard. He found Megumi on top of him, crazily humming yet another song from some anime far far away. He blinked, before narrowing his eyes. "Megumi," he stated angrily, in the calmest way he could. "You have a _dress _to design."

"Limbs," she sang.

"And Worthington's still _stalking us-" _

"And bones!"

"Megumi!"

"Legs! And eyes! And hearts hearts hearts hearts hearts _hearts!"_

"…What are you _talking _about?!"

"With a side of chest. Nut. _Pie_."

She dissolved into mindless laughter.

Natsuno bit the inside of his cheek. Instantly, he sat up, his hands leaping up to her own. They didn't have _time _for this. They needed to get moving, go to the next client, get ready for the next show; the only reason Megumi could spend those precious moments with those models was because they were ahead of schedule.

"_Don't_."

He froze.

That…was _really_ _threatening_.

Megumi forced him back down on the bed, as she towered over him. Both her hands cupped his cheeks, and her pink strands fell over his forehead. Dazed, crimson pupils stared back at his, as her thumb settled at the bottom of his lip. "Don't," she repeated again.

Natsuno paused, the shock still vibrating through his system. Finally, when some of it did leave, the only thing he could actually say, was, "_W-what-?!" _

Her hand suddenly flew to the back of his head, her fingers entwining with the stray strands of his hair. She pulled his head back, and allowed her lips to fall to his throat. "I know what you're gonna do," she sang. Her lips trailed up to his jawline, while she kept murmuring against his skin. "Break all my limbs and bones?"

HIs face was getting hot. "W-wait-"

"Tear off my legs?"

"What're you-?!"

"Gouge out my eyes? Rip out my heart?" she kept pressing, as she dragged herself toward his ear. Her fingers began toying with his lips, with the scent of her own intoxication mixing into the air. He could feel her cheek against his. "_I won't let you." _

Before he knew it, he found her lips to his.

He could taste Vodka on her tongue.

* * *

When he came back to the hotel room, Megumi was still passed out on the bed. A blanket was hastily thrown over her body, with her body sprawled all over the sheets. That aggressive, predatory grin was still on her face, but judging from the alcohol induced hallucination she suffered from last night, it seemed she managed to survive. Arms and legs and eyes and everything else was safe from…whomever she was dreaming about. As soon as she wakes up, they can finally leave Nagoya.

That same, unmistakable blush splattered across his face.

He shut the door and walked in, careful not to look at the shiki as he did so. He went to the farthest corner of the room, stared out the window, and started contemplating on whatever the _hell _just happened.

He kept replaying that scene over and over again, from her possessive grip, to her hands clawing at his hair, to her lips on his neck. He only needed her words, right? And that stupid song she kept singing over and over again. What was that song from anyways?

Carefully, he stole a look at Megumi, who was, of course, still sleeping.

Limbs and bones, huh?

Breaking all their limbs and bones, so they can't do anything for themselves. They'd have to rely on you every single day, depending on you for everything, for anything. Can't move, can't do anything at all, save for calling your name over and over again.

Tearing off all their legs, so they can't run from you.

Gouging out their eyes, so they'd only look at you.

Ripping out her heart, so that she'd belong only to him.

"…the hell…?"

Natsuno jolted upwards.

There was Megumi, who was rubbing her temples with two, delicate fingers. She winced at the pain, though that didn't stop her from sitting up. She could barely look out to the room, but when she did, she couldn't help but sigh. "Where…?"

"You got drunk," he flatly explained, as he came toward her, all the while trying to suppress his rising panic.

"…What-?"

"You. Got. Drunk." he said again, as he swept the covers over her head. He watched her fumble with the sheets for around five minutes before she somehow managed to get it off. "The bartender called; I had to drag you out of that stupid restaurant. Thankfully, no one saw us."

She plopped back down on the bed. "And the models?"

"Agency."

"They were really good models."

"Huh."

"Good to work with."

"…Yeah…"

"…We have to leave now…?"

"It'll take around two hours to get back to Omotesando," he explained, endeavoring to assume his normal business-like tone. He sat down at the edge of the bed, as he looked down at her groggy face. "I've already got us a cab. It should be here in around ten minutes."

"Hmm…"

"Megumi…?"

"Hmm…?"

"If you fall asleep, I'm leaving you behind."

"I'm up," she said in a slightly annoyed voice, her eyes still closed from the alcohol.

He started to get one hand on her ankle, fully intending on dragging her out of the bed, when he stopped.

_Tear off my legs? _

"I had a really weird dream," Megumi mumbled then.

"Oh?" he asked quietly. "What was it?"

"A monster," she replied. "Who crippled and paralyzed me."

His hand instantly flew away from her. She, however, never noticed, and continued on. "It was so weird."

"Was it…painful?"

"Don't know."

"You remember anything else?"

"No."

"…No?"

"Why?"

He didn't answer.

"Natsuno?"

"…No reason."

* * *

Author's Note:

-Hello, I'm the Seelie Court Jester.

-Sorry, I accidentally placed up the wrong chapter, and by the time I noticed, it'd been up for a while. But now I've gotten it fixed. Again, so sorry.

-In shiki, Tooru did say vampires can't get drunk. However, I think that's because in the village, everyone's used to drinking alcohol. Their bodies got used to the tolerance, and when they became shiki, the tolerance carried over. Personally, I don't think Megumi's ever drank alcohol, so she has less tolerance. Her body isn't used to breaking down alcohol, even as a vampire, so she had to take it slow. The myth, "Vampires can't get drunk, no matter how much they drink", will apply to her later. As you know, you build up tolerance as you go.

-Vodka is an incredibly alcoholic substance.


	100. Family

The car vibrated subtly underneath him, with the verdant blurs and shapes passing him, all of which just a mere centimeter away. The pristine lake beyond the trees only served to frighten him a bit more, so much so he never bothered looking toward the afternoon skies, nor the smallest of creatures passing by. Dark blue shadows covered the dirt roads, and when he gazed down at the cliffs lingering dangerously nearby, he couldn't help but pull back rapidly, only to bump into a small, black suitcase nestled closely against his side. He stared at that suitcase for a while, before sighing, and returning to his seat, the seatbelt still refusing to lock in place.

"Kid-"

Tommy looked up impatiently. "It's broken."

"Then grab onto something," the driver replied gruffly, as he turned the car, the side of Tommy's door nearly slamming onto the railing of the already crumbling edge.

Tommy scrutinized the driver, then settled back in his seat, though only this time, he dug his fingernails into the cushions. Eventually, his frustration died, and only thirty minutes later did he relinquish his control over the man's unexpected twists and turns. It wasn't much of a problem anyway; as long as his head stopped slamming against the window, Tommy was fine.

Light brown hair stretched down his face. Big, tired eyes stared out at the now faded lake, his caramel pupils reflecting the shimmering lights back at the scenery in front of him. A worn-out, grey t-shirt covered his scrawny torso, along with blue, baggy shorts that he had to pull up every five seconds. But it was too late for him to get his belt out of the suitcase; the old man was turning again.

Tommy never knew his parents; his mother died when she gave birth to him, and his dad died in a car accident. So it'd been just his grandparents, ever since he could remember. Though they were kind, and he was grateful to them, it was only just a month that his grandparents died, just as easily as his parents did.

From what he could remember, they were both on the way to the supermarket. It was raining, and they told him they weren't going to be back for a while, probably because they liked playing in the rain so much. He said everything an eleven year old would say to his playful, somewhat immature guardians, gave them an umbrella, and told them to hurry back. It started out like just any other normal night, so it surprised him when the police came knocking on the door, telling him that a drunk driver had run them over.

He closed his eyes, as the car took another sharp swerve.

As of now, Tommy was going to stay with one of his grandmother's close friends in Japan. From what he's heard, that friend lived in the countryside, and owned a small, local flower shop. He was a grumpy old man, but once you get to know him, he was somewhat friendly. That friend lived by the lake and a local junior high school, so Tommy didn't feel like he'd be too bored. The shopping district of the town wasn't incredibly impressive, and perhaps the only thing worth mentioning there was a tiny tourist shop that had all kinds of trinkets, from fake obsidian to those tiny little curse dolls kids were always playing with. There were a lot of legends and rumors surrounding that town, but aside from that, it didn't seem that abnormal.

But in spite of that, it still wasn't a particularly pleasant experience; after all, he'd have to leave his school and his friends behind. And moving from one continent to another wasn't an easy task; he's lived in Glasgow for most of his life, and aside from a few stories he's heard from his grandmother, there wasn't much to go off by when it came to the culture; thank goodness he could actually speak the language. Yet aside from all that, he wasn't really feeling much of anything. On one hand, he did want to start over, cast away everything he knew, if only to try and forget the pain his family's death caused him. On the other hand, he couldn't bear to let go of that fragment, even if it was collapsing around him. The very thought of it was enough to shut him up for the entire adoption process.

About an hour later, the car slowly came to a halt. Tommy blinked, before he surveyed the outside uneasily. He only took in about an inch of the town, before the driver started shooing him out.

"C'mon kid," he grumbled. "Haven't gotten all day."

Tommy shot the man a half-hearted glare, before grabbing his suitcase, shoving the money in the driver's face, and forcing his way out of the taxi. His sneakers barely hit the ground when the taxi sped away, with the satisfied man laughing his heart out at the boy's misfortune.

Tommy fought down a sneer, before turning around, and taking in the town's entirety.

He then took another step forward, then another, then another. Before long, he met an old, yet fit, man, someone with bulging muscles. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, along with a white undershirt coated in soil. The man asked Tommy who he was, before demanding that he give him a passport.

After a few more moments of awkwardness, Tommy realized who this person was. "Uncle" then led the boy away from the streets and towards his new home.

* * *

The archaic flower shop was small, petite, and reminded Tommy of the old chapels in Wales. To his left was the actual shop; the walls were a golden brown, with paintings upon paintings of the seaside, enchanted forests, an old castle or two. There were three large, Gothic windows at the front, with light velvet curtains softly swaying to the summer breeze. Tiny bell-shaped flowers nestled against the glass, and just near the top were intricately shaped mirrors of every color, some light, others dark. The wooden floorboards were warm against his bare feet, though he felt the unmistakable feel of seeds and wasted petals beneath his heel. A glass countertop stood in front of him, with a shelf filled with books about natural remedies, crops, the environment, anything at all pertaining to nature. All around the store, he could see clearly every single flower covering the bare walls, some he knew, some he didn't. He stared at the homey interior for a bit longer, before turning his gaze elsewhere.

To his right was a small staircase. When he looked up, piles of blankets were draped lovingly across the broad rails, along with two white pillows, which reflected the light-filled atmosphere the second room possessed. If he leaned forward, he could make out three different doorways, each brightly lit to the tunes of the afternoon light. Tomomi gripped his suitcase, and swirled his attention to Uncle Ken, who was busily shoving his plants into the door.

"Japanese oak," he stated proudly, as he planted the delicate things on the countertop. "Young man, I expect you to help around here. Got it?"

Wordlessly, Tommy nodded. He gripped his suitcase tightly, as he looked back upstairs. "Um, sir-?"

"_Uncle." _

"R-right," he whispered silently. "Uncle. So, exactly what are you-?"

"I like working," Uncle finished easily. He fidgeted the oak for a while, brushing its autumn-colored leaves delicately, all the while endeavoring to fix whatever nonexistent mess he made before. "Retirement ain't my thing. Can't sit around all day, you know?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Right. So, how's everything? Been a while since you've been to Japan, huh?"

"No sir."

"Hmm?"

Tommy fidgeted silently. He'd actually never been to Japan until now, really. His grandparents were always so busy with work, and honestly, the prospect never really interested him. "This is… my first time here."

Uncle was quiet for a bit, as he examined the boy, endeavoring to make sure he was telling the truth. Before long, the old man sighed, and gestured him upstairs. "Whelp, grand tour. Welcome to Japan. Geez, your folks should've at least told you _something, _right?"

"Y-yeah, sort of-"

"Sort of?"

"Y-yes. Never told me anything sir."

"How old are you anyways?"

"Twelve sir."

"Drop the suitcase."

"Sir?"

"_Drop_. The _damn_. _Suitcase_."

He promptly dropped the suitcase.

"Turn your damn ass around and go outside."

His lips parted slightly.

_He _was their _friend_?

Uncle crossed his arms, and gave Tommy a seething look, one he'd rather not see again. "Well son? You got a problem?"

He spun his heel and ran outside.

* * *

There wasn't a lot to look at when it came to a place like this. There were small shops here and there, along with a few trinket stores available for visitors. There were a lot of stands outside, and not far from the lake, there was a bustling outdoor marketplace where people sold all kinds of things; food, clothes, jewelry, even toys and video games. Colorful banners flew across the stalls, and delicious aromas kept entwining within the surrounding air. Tommy kept staring at all of it, from the children running around, playing their little games, to kids his own age, trying to look standoffish, to high schoolers, who were rejoining in on the fun with their older counterparts.

The school was a large, grey building, with rectangular windows and neat rows of trees dotted sporadically across the lawn. There were a few kids playing in the lawn, but they seemed desperate, and really, Tommy preferred he not get closer. Even more so, one of them gave the boy the finger, before swiftly turning back to his friends and snickering. Tommy took the hint, and walked away. He wasn't much of a fighter.

There wasn't much excitement anywhere else. The library, the music store, anywhere at all with access to, at least, _some _technology, was completely dead. However, the residential areas seemed to be somewhat lively; there was a housewife who managed to talk with him. As soon as he said, "I'm new here" though, it seemed her flock of friends, who appeared out of practically nowhere, surrounded him.

"You must be Ken's boy, aren't you?"

"No, no! He came from Europe, remember?"

"Right! Tomomi!"

Tommy grimaced at his name, and turned away. "I ah, go by Tommy."

"What?" one of the housewives implored. "But Tomomi is such a wonderful name! What's it mean again?"

"Chika, you forget everything!"

"Say, Tomomi," one woman whispered, as she leaned in happily, a curious light taking hold of her eyes. "How long are you staying here anyways?"

"Hey! Settle down! The boy's been through enough."

"He's not tired! First day and he's already walking around!"

"You know how Ken can be. Ah, always hassling and hassling, never stoping to actually _breathe. _Sorry Tomomi-kun; I hope the old bat didn't scare you."

Tommy shook his head, as he huddled his arms together. "No, i-it's fine…"

One of the women groaned. "See? You always scare them!"

"Oh hush up! It's not like _you_ can do any better!"

And while they argued amongst themselves, Tommy slipped away.

The lake was a lot quieter than he could've imagined; not a single boat was in sight, and the only things that kept him company were the geese and ducks. Large, ancient trees surrounded that lake, the dark and light shapes of blue coming together within the light's evanescent rays. And just beyond that lake, there was a stone bridge that led to the next part of town, the one high in the mountains. Though Tommy decided not to go there, considering the fact he was already tired, he wanted to go back. He had school next week, didn't he? How do Japanese school systems work anyways?

Then he saw it.

A small, tiny cottage, off in the distance.

It was at the base of the mountain, yet far enough away so that no one would notice. Like the flower shop, it was brown, a warm brown, with gray roof tiles that covered its pointed top. There were a lot of trees surrounding it, along with kudzu vines which wrapped around the trunks helplessly, pathetically. The windows were arched, from what he could tell, with dark curtains covering the inside, but other than that, that was all he could see.

And yet, as he turned, he couldn't help but notice a small, hazy silhouette, just behind those curtains.

* * *

As time passed, that old cottage kept bothering Tommy. But then again, why wouldn't? Even in an old-fashioned town like this, it was out of place. After all, it was old, and archaic, and quite frankly, it reminded him of those fairytale books his grandmother used to read him. Normally, he wouldn't have been interested in that kind of thing, but the familiarity of it dragged him away from his usual routine. The very notion of it sent him to the base of the mountain and back, to the place where he'd found those silhouettes. And that was another thing; it wasn't a silhouette, but rather, _two._ No, it wasn't always two; sometimes one, other times two. But at most, that's how many there were.

He'd let the assumptions fill his head as the seasons went by. Friends from that gang he saw in school, perhaps two lovers sneaking out for the night, maybe a scandal no one wanted to get out; who knows what else came through his head?

The two shadows kept pestering him on and on. He'd always stand there, for one reason or another, and stare at the shadows.

There was one time when he managed to get a clear view of the two. The boy was a couple of years older than he was, as was the girl. From the looks on their faces, it seems they've lived there for forever.

He'd seen them before.

One morning, he mustered the courage to ask about that old cottage to Uncle. The man was busily working on his new flower bed, trying to get ready for the next influx of tourists. When Tommy came to see him, he was knelt down, with a bunch of white roses settled next to him. When the man looked up, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked Tommy to help him, else he'd beat the boy, which, of course, was only bluff.

Still, Tommy knelt down beside him and planted the flowers into a small, shallow hole in the ground. He expertly dodged the thorns sticking out from the stems, as he placed the roots firmly into the cool, dark soil. He looked up then, and saw Uncle's pleased face. "Hey," the boy started.

"See?" the man interrupted enthusiastically." Afterwards, we've gotta water them, then let them sit out here for a few days. Buy some fences to keep them growing the right way-"

"You know everyone who lives here, right?"

Uncle paused for a moment, before nodding. "What about it?" he asked gruffly, as he grabbed a large, black hose near him. As soon as he did, he leaned over, twisted the knob, and allowed the water to cascade down toward the thirsty roses. "Did the old bat ask you something?"

"…Old bat?"

"You know, the neighbors…um…oh, Ms. Kimiko!"

It took a while, but Tommy finally managed to recall her somewhat curious, yet terrifying face. That's right; she was the one who first came up to him, the one with that terrifying flock always swarming around her. He stayed silent for a while, before shrugging off whatever suspicions the old man had, and asked him about the old house down by the mountainside.

Uncle thought for a moment, before he nodded again. He wiped his sweaty, dirt-ridden palms on his jeans. "That old thing, down by the lake?"

"Y-yeah, that one."

"Yeah, I know the place. What about it?"

"Who lives there?"

"No one."

"Huh?"

"The people who lived there moved out, like, decades ago."

Tommy blinked. "That's not-"

"True story kid."

The boy and girl flashed Tommy's mind. But before long, he sighed, and shoved his questions to the back of his mindWhat was he doing anyways? If those two wanted to talk, then they will. Besides, what right did he have doing that kind of stuff anyways? He's…kind of like a stalker, in away…

"Why?"

Tommy snapped back to attention. "I'm…sorry?"

"Why're you asking, kid?" Uncle asked rather harshly. "Something happen?"

"N-no," Tommy managed. "I was just curious. You know, if no one's been there…why don't they just tear it down?"

"Good question. But it's not up to me; Ms. Kimiko is in charge of stuff like that."

"Oh."

"Believe it. Her husband used to run this really big construction company. When he died, she took over. Since then, it's like she's been running half the town. Not that I'm complaining or anything, you know?"

"R-right."

"Go on then. Shop's not gonna run itself, and I still gotta few more of these things to plant."

"Got it," Tommy said quietly, as he hurried back inside the store.

It wasn't the store's busiest days. There were two old women there, from what he could remember. They were both housewives, and like a majority of the townspeople, whenever he saw them, they were vibrant, happy, a bit pushy. Neither had kids, but they were planning on adopting one day. They loved flowers, but preferred buying herbs instead, since they helped out at the local market stalls. As he took his place behind the counter, his legs climbing the stool hesitantly, his eyes wandering at every single bud coming near, he could hear their chatter aimlessly bouncing off the walls.

Seems like there was another stray dog roaming the streets. The high schools are beginning to recruit students in Tommy's school. Oh, and the five-year old's been crying is eyes out for the last four days, all because his parents won't buy him candy. Cavities probably. Uncle's been seen with some old lady in that nursing home, and from the looks of thinks, seems he really likes her. No, he's not getting married; she just wanted some roses.

Then the gossip stopped.

Tommy flickered a confused gaze toward the ladies. After a split second, he turned toward the door, and saw someone standing there, examining the flowers.

He looked about Tommy's age, that customer. Purple bangs came down his forehead, with incredibly piercing pupils scrutinizing one stray amaryllis bulb. From here, it looked like he was looming over the plants intimidatingly, carrying with him an air of elegance the townsfolk certainly seemed to lack. He wore a pristine, white shirt, with black pants, all of which were old enough to pass off as normal. Still, Tommy froze; no matter what he did, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to, at the very least, _look _comfortable.

"Hello?"

He was talking.

_He _was _talking. _

Tommy gripped his shorts as the stranger came toward the countertop. Calm down; the guy's probably just some tourist from the big city. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, right? He bit the inside of his cheek, and swallowed whatever reluctance he had. He looked up.

The boy from the house.

"I'd like to buy this one."

Tommy blinked, before looking down at the countertop.

Spider-lillies.

"G-good choice," he stammered then, as he looked down at the price tag, completely forgetting everything he learned from the past months he's worked here.

The stranger cocked his head. "Are you new here?"

"Ah…n-no," Tommy muttered, trying to input the numbers in the register. "I was here…for months now…I guess-"

"When'd you come?"

"Somewhere in…"

He couldn't remember.

_Crap_.

"Forget it," the customer said, as he pulled out a bill from his pocket. "You can keep the change."

"So…I haven't seen you around before…either…" Tommy muttered lamely. He was about to say something else, before he stopped himself, biting his lip in utter frustration. What was _wrong _with him today?

"I travel a lot, so I'm not here as often as I like."

"R-really?"

"That's right," he replied, taking no interest in the old women who'd just left the store. "I'm planning on leaving again."

"What's a…what's your name?"

He stared at Tommy for a while, before chuckling quietly. A bright red splattered on Tommy's face, as he resisted whatever urge he had to hide. "Tell me your's first, alright?"

"T-Tomomi…I go by Tommy."

There was a tense, tentative pause between the two. Tommy couldn't look at the boy's face, knowing full well he looked so uncool. But he forced himself to go on, trying to brush aside the awkwardness he might've caused the stranger. "I've lived here for a few months…so I'm not really new…anymore…I really like it here. Um, the school's fine I guess. Kids are…a little…"

He isn't even _asking _any of that.

_Stupid_.

"Natsuno."

Tommy looked up. "What?" he asked dumbly.

"I'm Natsuno," the stranger said easily. "It was nice meeting you… Tomomi."

"I ah…I go by-"

"I'd rather you didn't. You know," he continued, "I live in an old cottage near the lake. You can come by anytime, alright?"

Tommy could only nod.

By the time the women came back, with Uncle in tow, Natsuno had disappeared. The bill, however, was still in Tommy's hand.

* * *

Tommy came there the very next evening.

He was wearing a plain blue t-shirt, with green shorts and sneakers, both of which made him feel incredibly underdressed. His brown hair kept sticking to his neck, as the last of the sunlight faded from the nostalgic skies. He took a deep breath, and looked up.

The whole house really did look enchanted. There were two large, arched windows in the front, the glass hidden by the dark heavy curtains at the front. The large, wooden door welcomed his reflection, the polished surface gazing back at the twisted trees behind him. The shimmering lake gave rise to the softening darkness surrounding him, while the brown contrasted to the strange, golden glow he couldn't help but remember. And when he peered through the windows, he could make out a similar silhouette he'd seen time and time again. He bit his lip, as he crept closer.

What was he _doing _here?

Natsuno probably had other things to do, and besides, he might not even remember the boy. It doesn't matter how cool he was; he was a grown-up, and grown-ups had adult stuff to do. Important stuff. And even if he did have time, what were they going to talk about anyways? The weather? How Tommy got here? Glasgow? No, Tommy didn't even want to touch on the subject. He spun around, and started walking away, when he heard a musical voice chime a simple word.

"Hello?"

He had to look back.

She had one hand against the door, the other plainly situated to her side, as she stood there expectantly. She had bright, crimson eyes, and just like Natsuno, pale skin that seemed to shimmer in the midst of the shadows. Rosette hair fell down her back, with cute bangs that stopped to the front. She wore a simple, black dress, one with long, graceful sleeves that stopped to her wrist. A black chain adorned her throat, with a tiny, white ribbon dangling from the middle. It looked like she was about to go somewhere.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Hello?"

Tommy automatically blushed at her beauty, and immediately looked away. He was staring at her, wasn't he? Now she's gonna think he's some idiot; did Natsuno give him the right address? How old was he anyways?

_What was Tommy even doing here? _

Still, Tommy forced himself to say something. "H-hi," he whispered cowardly. "I-I'm…Tomomi. I…I um-"

The woman's eyes softened then. Slowly, she opened the door further, and took one tiny step out. "That's right. Natsuno talked about you-"

"L-look, I-I'm sorry if I…he did," he finished lamely, as he clutched his fists.

He really was a loser, wasn't he?

The woman stared at him for a while, as Natsuno had done, before relaxing, the tension fleeing her expression. "Sorry, he's…busy. But you can come in, if you want."

He looked up. "I…I-?"

"You did come all the way here, right?" she said, as she swept back inside. Tommy stood there for a moment, before hesitantly following the woman in.

There were four canvases neatly lined up against the walls, the green curtains helping to disguise their mischievous atmosphere. There was a round, wooden table in the middle of the room, with a red, velvet couch near it. Piles upon piles of sketches were on that table, some cartoonish, others skillful, all of which were near a white candle at the edge of the table. A small, simple chandelier dangled from the ceiling, the golden light illuminating the room from above. There was a fireplace toward the back of the room, and on the mantle, pictures of colors, some he knew, others he didn't. To his left, Tommy could see a simple staircase, one that stretched to a small room on top. He blinked, as he slowly came toward the stairwell, only to be stopped by a curious looking photo near the mantle. But before he could reach it, the young woman turned to him. "Sorry, but there's not much of anything. It's just a studio, after all." she added sheepishly.

"It's…pretty."

She laughed. "Sit down, sit down."

He did just that.

She set herself down across from him, and looked up from the floor, with both elbows resting on the table. "So," she began, a calm, soothing smile on her face, "your name's Tomomi, right?"

"Y-yes," he answered awkwardly.

"But you like going by Tommy?"

"Right."

"Why?"

"I…I just think Tommy sounds…normal," he answered. "I'm from…Glasgow, so I um…I just figured that Tommy would sound better."

She blinked. "Huh. Natsuno and I have been to Glasgow before."

He looked up, curiosity, once again, overtaking him. "Really?"

"Yeah. So, how long have you lived there?"

"A-all my life," he said, the fear slowly ebbing away. "Well, except now. I mean, I guess I live here now, so…"

"…You're not going back?"

"No."

Much to his relief, the woman didn't ask why. Instead, she simply nodded, and settled back in her seat, the interest still evident in her eyes. "I think Tomomi is a good name."

"I…I guess…"

"Your mom name you that?"

Tommy shook his head. "My grandma."

"So I'm guessing you're really smart, right?"

"Y-yeah!" he said, his fear slowly ebbing away. "Back in Scotland, I was a really good student. Well, I still am."

"What subjects?"

"English and Math. And chemistry too!"

"How about physics?"

"Gross. What about you?"

She smirked playfully. "I don't like school very much. Ah, sorry, I'm Megumi by the way."

He grinned. "Tomomi."

So throughout the evening, he just kept talking with the beautiful woman. For how long, he had absolutely no idea; time had suddenly just seemed to fly by him, slipping by him so easily. But personally, he didn't care, even when she hurried him away; Megumi said he could come again.

* * *

Everyday he kept going back there. He'd usually come after school, after he was done working at the flower shop, after dinner, whatever time no one needed him. Usually, he'd make up some excuse to Uncle, then he'd leave without another care in the world.

They weren't regular teenagers, Natsuno and Megumi, even though they looked like it. They never went to school, never talked about anything he'd hear the other high schoolers talk about. Usually, it was sometimes about business, while other times, spinning intriguing tales Tommy wouldn't have thought were possible for even the most special person. He didn't need a reason to be there; sometimes, he'd just sit there with them, and tell them about his day, while other times, he'd listen to their memories, of where they've been, of what trouble they've gotten themselves into. It was impossible, in his opinion, but with them, he wasn't even sure. It was as if they really had lived through it, had suffered those pains, had laughed those laughs, all within the scope of their brief lives.

But that wasn't the only thing. The cottage, once again, was just like those old houses in his grandmother's stories; it reminded him of Glasgow, of his grandparents, of when he was still there, in their embrace. It had the same, homey feel he painfully missed, as well as the lighthearted comfortableness he couldn't help but savor whenever he came by. It was better than Uncle's house by a long shot, though Tommy would never admit it.

There was one occasion, however, that stuck out to him. He was in that cottage, shifting through the various outfits buried beneath the messy, age-old paintings. Megumi and Natsuno had somewhere to be, and since it was dark, they told Tommy to stay in the house, at least until they get back. He did, of course, but before long, curiosity got the better of him, and he started looking through their things. The photograph on the mantle was gone, though he didn't mind it much. There was already so much here, so much he could uncover, something he could ask about when they got back.

But after a while, his eyes kept drifting over to the staircase. He fought off the temptation for a while, but soon, he looked up, and saw that mysterious door mocking him. He stared at, but he then returned to whatever he was doing. If they wanted to tell him what was in there, then they would. But when they came back, he couldn't help but ask them what was inside.

He didn't expect them to let him see what was up there.

Slowly, they came up the stairwell. He stared up at the door, as Natsuno turned the knob, and gradually, the door creaked open.

There was a small, white bed nestled in the corner, with white curtains hanging over the sheets. A big window settled next to the bed, but with golden curtains, rather than dark green. Purple and blue and pink lay splattered all over the panes, and on the floorboards were scribbles of crayon and marker, some cute, others…horrific. Blank canvases were neatly placed on that white bed, while the other paintings were in another stack, underneath the bed. The entire scene was so interesting, Tommy walked in, surveying the almost fragile room.

When the boy looked back, Megumi had already gone back down, no doubt working on her next project, while Natsuno stood there, with a bittersweet expression on his face. Tommy remained quite for a minute or so, before asking Natsuno whose room this was.

"Come downstairs," was his only reply.

* * *

One day, he was heading out to that old cottage again, when Uncle stopped him. Apparently, he needed Tommy to plant the geraniums up front. Though he was a bit annoyed, he agreed, and began doing so; he'd been doing this for a while now, and as long as no one bothered him, he could get this done. He was going to be a little late though…

"Tomomi."

"Uncle?" he replied, as he kept on with the tedious chore.

"Have you noticed anything…strange lately?"

"No Uncle," he answered aimlessly.

"Anything at all?"

"No."

"I see," the man said, as he leaned against the doorframe, watching the young boy work. He stared off at the empty space in front of him then, taking in the night air without any hesitation. Before long, the words came back. "Nothing at all?"

"No." he said again.

"So…I hear you've been hanging out with…some kids at school?"

"No."

"No?"

His eyes flickered toward the bulbs then, as he dug his fingers through the soil. "What happened?" Tommy asked automatically.

Uncle never said anything for the rest of the evening.

* * *

"You're…leaving?"

"That's right," Natsuno said quietly, as both he and Megumi stared back at the young boy. The night sky shimmered above, the light posts dimly lit upon the streets. Natsuno was wearing the same, outfit Tommy saw him wear from the day they met, as was Megumi. There was a white canvas tucked beneath her right arm, but he shoved aside his curiosity, and regarded his newfound friends evenly. "So," he began, "when are you coming back?"

"Not for a while."

"Y-yeah but-"

"A very long trip." Natsuno stated stubbornly.

"O-oh." he whispered, unable to hide his crestfallen frown.

A pause came between the three. Tommy didn't know why they were going, and personally, he was afraid to ask. He kept himself from being too emotional, as he took a deep breath, endeavoring to calm himself. Somehow, he managed to shake off his discomfort, and he resigned himself to their decision. At the very least, he could thank them, after all this time. "I..I um-"

"It's fine," Megumi interrupted softly. She stared at him for a bit longer, then, in one fluid motion, removed the canvas from her arm. Carefully, she held it out to him. "We want you to have this."

Tommy blinked, before looking down. "I'm…I'm not really an artist…"

"It's fine."

"But-"

"Tomomi," Natsuno whispered quietly. "Do you remember when we showed you that room, up in the attic?"

Tommy gripped the edges tightly. "What about it?"

"Draw something. Anything. When you're finished, put it in that room so we can see it later, okay?"

And without thinking, he agreed.

* * *

Embers.

Scorching embers.

That's the only thing he remembered.

Tommy kept shouting out to them, all the while the townspeople kept him back. Someone was trying to cover his eyes, screaming at the top of their lungs, trying to drown out his own desperation. He struggled against their arms, trying to reach out to the burning house, as he kept on with his fight, the tears streaming down his cheek. He clawed out to the air, trying to reach out for them, though in the end, he was dragged away.

He remembered Uncle's painful face.

He remembered the women's agonizing expressions.

He remembered the neighbors judgmental gazes.

And he remembered the murderous screams they all cried, as that cottage burned down.

* * *

The warm glow illuminating from the windows, the dark, green curtains that seemed to shield everything from the worries from the outside; that big, wooden door appeared to lead the contrast between the painted lakes and mountains and trees, to the cottage's small, enchanted depiction. The blue, and white, and brown, and green, and every little color in between, seemed to just…blend together. It was almost ethereal, so very much like how he remembered it.

After the fire, the townsfolk started frequenting the flower shop more often. Sometimes, it was to interrogate Tomomi, while other times, it was to remind Uncle about the dangers of the outside world. Of course, it didn't look like Uncle believed any of it, though afterwards, he'd never talk with Tomomi for long. At school, no one ever bothered talking about the incident, and though many gave their sympathies, in the end, only Tomomi dealt with the problem. He just wanted to be left alone.

After that, he did just as he was supposed to. He kept moving on, graduating high school, on the verge of graduating college, with a job waiting for him. He was back in Scotland, though in another month, he'd be flying to Canada for the job; he wasn't planning on staying too long anyways.

It'd been ten years since that day. He had no idea where they went, where they'd gone, who they were with, or even if they were even alive. He didn't know what they did that was so bad, didn't know why they were chased out like they were, yet the moment the questions surfaced in his mind, he shut them down. He wasn't going to get any answers from them, not at this point.

Tomomi stood in front of that same painting in his dorm room. Light brown hair swept over his caramel eyes, with streaks of blond naturally embedded along the strands. An old, brown t-shirt hugged his torso, with worn-out, black dress pants that made him seem sophisticated in a very odd way. Bare feet touched the soft, gray carpet, and as he regarded that painting, he couldn't help but recall their request from long ago.

He closed his eyes, and approached the painting. After all this time, not once has he gone back to that cottage. Yes, he's visited Japan, and yes, he's helped Uncle run the flower shop, but nothing more. He never went near that studio, never even bothered stopping by, to see if somehow, that place had miraculously been rebuilt.

Carefully, he lifted the canvas emptily, and examined it.

He missed them.

He missed his grandparents.

He missed his friends.

Every memory he had, every little second he spent with them, everything they've ever done together, left imprinted on a simple painting, one that could only give him whatever else he'd left in his emotionless senses.

It wasn't fair.

It _wasn't fair. _

Then he heard something drop.

Slowly, Tomomi looked down at the floor. What appeared to be an old photograph slipped out from the board, a picture he only noticed now. He blinked, as he carefully set the canvas down. He crouched down then, and lifted the photograph. The one from the mantle.

There was his grandmother, in a white, wedding gown, a bouquet of white roses nestled along her grip. Pretty, brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, with stern, but comforting pupils staring at the camera. A shy smile tugged at her lips, with a slight blush that came with the playful embarrassment she had on her wedding day. There was his grandfather, just right beside her, with a confident grin stretched across his face. Blond hair was neatly swept back behind his ear, with warm, brown eyes that matched his lovely bride. A sharp, black tuxedo contrasted to his bride's dress.

_Kaori and Haru, _it said at the bottom.

And just beside them, were Natsuno and Megumi.

"Tommy!"

There was a sudden pounding against his dorm room, and immediately, Tomomi snapped back to attention. Frantically, he turned back, before stuffing the photo in his pocket, and placing the canvas back in its place. "C-coming!" he stumbled, as he quickly stood.

Natsuno and Megumi.

They were there, in the picture.

_They were in the picture. _

As he opened the door, the river of students pouring out from the hallways, their eager smiles ready for the upcoming ceremonies, he couldn't help but look back.

That same cottage was sitting there, in that room, basking in whatever warmth was left from the fading sun.


	101. Author's Note

When I first read through Dante's _Inferno_, I'd admit I was a bit confused, very terrified, very stricken, all at once. I thoroughly enjoyed Dante's journey through hell, and I liked seeing all the historical figures there, giving their input on hell, even if they were suffering. Combined with the Southern Gothic Play, _The Glass Menagerie,_ and the psychological _Crime and Punishment, _I put together a story I really did love.

As you all may or may not know, "Purgatoriu" is Romanian for "Purgatory." I named it this title out of respect for Vlad Tepes, the Turkish ruler of Romania way back when, as well as the inspired historic figure for Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. I loved all the characters in the book, though personally, to me, it was a bit predictable; good guys win, bad guys lose, victims are already lost. I found that in a lot of modern novels, and honestly, it was annoying. Too innocent, too naive; predictable.

When I ran into the anime _Shiki, _I immediately fell in love with its different take on the horror genre. Though I could relate more to some characters than the rest, I could see a lot of real life qualities these characters took on, especially when it came to people in our societies today. Megumi and Natsuno, restless teenagers who were more or less misunderstood, Masao, a boy who wanted his family's attention, and Tooru, the guy everyone liked, and the one who didn't deserve to die. Toshio, Tatsumi, Sunako, and even that extremist old guy; I found so many qualities in them I saw in the people around me. Since I related to Megumi and Natsuno the most (and since they were a bit spoiled and needed to be taken down a few notches), I decided to write about them.

Some of the themes in _Purgatoriu _were themes that I've seen in life overall. Clearly, lines between right and wrong blurred, with the meaning of life and death enveloped in enigma. Still, the characters could find some safe haven from all of this, wherever that might be. Desperation and insanity swarmed around the two, but despite all that, they still managed to continue living, though technically, they're dead. You've seen it all; Natsuno and Megumi racing ahead, trying to find a way out of the darkest corners of their own delusions and sins. Though it be bittersweet, a bit sad maybe, they managed to find a light out of it, even after everything they've gone through.

The corpse demons at the end of the main story, the ones that both Haru and Fawn built, I believe, were real _shiki. _Controlled by their own sense of despair and sorrow, they pursued whomever had warmth, whomever had any other emotion than the freezing pain they were drowning in. I think, that through Haru, everyone, from Nao, to Masao, and, tragically, even Tooru (yes, Tooru's corpse was used. A bit ironic that, at the end, Natsuno didn't even see his friend walking toward that fire) came after both Natsuno and Megumi. They weren't evil, though their actions certainly are; they were, after all, once human. So, when they died, they faded away, and achieved their happy end.

So then, to Megumi's questions, at the end; the one that stood out, at least for me, was the one where she asked Natsuno how you could belong somewhere, when you know you've destroyed your own home. To be honest, this question has been on my mind for some time, even before I started writing _Purgatoriu. _Just living seemed too simplistic, and moving on didn't seem good enough; it made the entire situation seem so trivial, even though it wasn't. Even now, I'm still trying to find that answer, and with all the recent developments, what with ISIL, the war in the Middle East, the prejudice against minorities in the Western World, the Cold War, democracy vs communism, and on, and on, and on, it hasn't made it easier.

I don't know. Should a jester even be asking any of this? Should a simple clown be asking themselves this over and over again, if their simple job was to make people laugh?

I don't know.

I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know.

If anyone would give me their input, I'd appreciate it.

* * *

In a way, I used Purgatoriu to try and solve some of my own questions about life, fumbling my way through one answer after the other, until finally, I came up with one I was satisfied with. And even then, that might change with other stories, whether they be fan fictions or not.

If you're all still wondering about the last chapter, yes, Megumi and Natsuno had been in contact with Kaori and Haru. Our two shiki had been with the lovers for the past decades, with their families, with their children. The studio in that little cottage served as a reminder of those times. I suspect that the two will follow Tomomi's family around too, so hey, everyone wins. :)

* * *

_Purgatoriu_ wasn't just another story to me; like the canon, it followed along guidelines as to how regular people would act in desperate situations. Unlike the canon, it followed the aftermath of those decisions, as well as the consequences that could come from them. It involved delusions that couldn't possibly be real, judgements only the characters themselves would give each other. They couldn't even see the happiness their old home brought them until it was destroyed, and it was only in the end did they manage to reclaim those memories.

Thank you for reading _Purgatoriu,_ and for your comments and support.

From

The Seelie Court Jester


End file.
